


blackmail

by DarlingHazel



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Blackmail, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:16:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22907215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingHazel/pseuds/DarlingHazel
Summary: It starts when whispers are heard, and then Billy hears it all and finds out about Steve's secret and finds a way to blackmail him. He didn't anticipate coming to be so protective of Steve though.or, billy finds out steve's got issues with his mom and uses it to blackmail him, only to end up protecting him instead
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 34
Kudos: 240





	1. One, Two, Three

Golden lights shine in from the gaps of the blinds, layering the room with thin stripes of orange and drawing around a figure beneath the blankets.

Shifting, the hulking man uncomfortably pulls the thin covering down to squint at the light.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself and runs his hands through his messy butterscotch hair.

The sun just barely blinds Billy as he wakens, forcing himself up and out of bed and planting his feet firm on the ground. It’s the same routine as ever, consisting of the teen stretching in his room for a few minutes before eating some leftovers from last night for breakfast and preparing an actual salad for his step sister. She should be sound asleep still, so he lets it sit for a few moments while he gets ready and brushes his teeth.

Much to his surprise, the redhead peers in from the corner of the bathroom door frame just as tiredly and mumbles, “Breakfast?”

“Table, dumbass,” he mutters around the toothbrush and doesn’t spare her a second glance. He knows she’s off the moment he’s done.

One.

Two.

Three.

After Billy’s done with styling his hair and shoving things into his bag, he hears keys jangling from behind him and immediately whips around to snatch them out of Max’s hand.

“Don’t.” Is all he says aggressively before he walks past her and begins heading to the car.

She follows closely behind, and the day goes on like normal.

“Can I go to the arcade after school?” Max asks during the ride.

Billy scoffs amused, thumbs the wheel in thought, “No.”

_Not right after nearly stealing my fucking keys._

Of course, Max is about to complain, but she knows when to bite her tongue. It gives Billy a sense of satisfaction when his eyes slide over to her to find her red-faced but silent.

Absolutely nothing tugs at his heart, this is routine. She’ll move away someday anyways.

Once they get to school, Max pushes the door open with aggression and storms off. Billy doesn’t care, though, because today Max is expected to do studying and Billy’s not up to deal with his dad if he was to go to the arcade for his step-sister.

Not like he cares about her anyways.

The box of cigarettes lay in his hand now, he rolls them around and throws it up to catch it while waiting to see Tommy H. or some other familiar face. It’s routine, to scan the whole lot until a familiar figure would approach and he’d follow them.

Billy knows how to be independent, he _knows,_ it’s just that everybody seems to think he’s up to something when he’s alone and he’s sick of it. He’s got bad rep, sure, but _Jesus_ it gets annoying when the other kids get curious and start popping questions he’s not prepared to answer.

Strangely, the so-proclaimed King of the school isn’t early today. Usually he’s up in Nancy’s business or hanging out with her and Jonathan around the school to enjoy the freedom while they have it or some shit, but Billy finds no such trace of him at all. Doesn’t bother him though, it’s just different. At least he has less to deal with today.

Finally, his eyes land on Tommy, walking to school like some prissy bitch with Carol by his side. Before the two can notice him, Billy quietly slips out of his car and pockets his cigarettes.

He walks up to the two, “Hagan.” Tommy jumps at the sound of the blonde’s voice and he smiles, “Hey, Billy!”

Billy hates how friendly Tommy gets with him, doesn’t like how fake it is but in high school fake’s all he’ll get anyways. He’ll take it, as short-term as it is.

“Any plans for today?” Usually there’s some small party after school on Mondays and Fridays, or a club meeting for Literature (though Billy’s reluctant to agree to Carol’s requests to join it properly) that he sometimes goes to to hear the shitty poetry.

Carol pushes Tommy off her, eliciting a giggle from the boy. “Nothing, we’re studying after school. Did you hear about Steve?” She asks while Tommy wounds his arms around her waist. Billy fights the urge to gag at the affection.

His curiosity is piqued, though. “No. I don’t give a shit about him, already put him in his place,” he coolly delivers but deep down, the thirst for knowledge and gossip ties his hands together patiently.

Carol ignores, just as she always does, and continues, “I heard from Tammy she saw him going to the hospital last week.” Her voice is laced with disgust at the thought of Tammy.

It’s no surprise, Carol hates the Harrington-ogling girl. Billy thinks Tammy’s a little stuck-up, but she’s sweet. Doesn’t change that she’s still just some chick in his eyes though.

Tommy nods and smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Wonder what that dickhead’s been up to.”

Billy starts to feel a little pissed at the concern over Harrington and shrugs. “Who cares?”

“Yeah, who cares?” Carol agrees blindly. Tommy nods again but more stiffly, removes his arms from around Carol and settles on just holding her hand instead.

They start walking into the school building, Perkins and Hagan chatting away as Billy blocks out their grating voices to tune into the running thoughts of what Harrington may have gotten himself into. Maybe he’s sick, or had a check up or some shit.

_It’s kind of weird that Tammy was near that hospital anyways._

He ignores the chill running down his spine at the image of her following Harrington around the moment her eyes found him. He’s had enough of creepy girls for now, he’s sure Harrington’s had his fair share.

Throughout the day though, the rumors spread fast and it’s not long before all Billy’s hearing is _did you hear that Steve’s…_ this and that. Humans have seven trillion nerves and the fucking students at Hawkins High manage to get on every single one of Billy’s.

Finally, English rolls around and Billy’s able to take a fucking breather.

Then the topic of discussion comes in late dishevelled in a loopy manner, nearly toppling over by a simple gust of wind and muttering excuses to the teacher.

He scoffs, hides his anger behind mocking amusement and stares straight into Harrington’s eyes. Harrington looks back fearfully, almost like Billy knows something, before he grabs the nearest empty seat and ignores the blonde completely.

_Alright, asshole. Have it your way._

As soon as English is over, Billy tails after Harrington into the crowded corridor and loses him far too quickly. _“Fuck,”_ he spits angrily.

But he’s up for a challenge today, and Harrington’s hiding something he just _has_ to know that he might be able to hold over the asshole’s head. So he pushes himself through the crowd and into the parking lot searching for a familiar head of hair.

“Billy?” Carol calls from behind him, and he snaps his attention to her. “Have you seen...?” he begins.

It’s like she reads his mind, because a devious grin splits her face in two and she cuts him off, “No, but maybe he’s with those stupid kids again at the arcade.”

_The arcade._

A tug snaps him out of his thoughts, conveniently his eyes travel up the length of the arm to find the concerned face of Max. “What’s going on? You look pissed.”

_None of your fucking business._

Carol’s gone before Billy can say anything else, and he starts pulling Max to the Camaro. “Hey- what the fuck?!” She yells and struggles. “Stop, we’re going to the fucking arcade, Max.” He nearly shouts at her. Nobody’s paying enough attention to care though, and even if they did, they wouldn’t do anything anyways.

Max’s face twists into confusion but she stops resisting, and gets in the car. He almost wants to thank her, if he wasn’t gonna be a bitch about it.

“I thought we were studying?” She asks once Billy’s inside as well, turning the ignition on.

He ignores her and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a whiff. “An hour,” he states.

Max slumps in her seat and nods in understanding, “Okay. I have an hour.”

The drive is quiet and tense, but Max seems to trust him more with every familiar turn of a corner up until they park. As soon as they park, she’s out and skipping into the arcade. Billy tries to follow closely behind but he makes sure to scan the area as well for any familiar hair.

He doesn’t even know why he’s trying so hard, honestly, because he doesn’t know what he wants with Harrington at all.

_Maybe I’ve got a thing or two to learn from Tammy._

The thought makes him stop in his steps, right at the entrance of the arcade.

_Is this stalking?_

He’s a shitty guy, he knows that, he’s got a bad rep and he’s kind of a snake and he gets into fights every other day. But he’s not a _creep._ Stalking isn’t his thing, he’d never go that far.

It might be overthinking, and honestly, Billy does that a lot more than he’d like to admit, but he doesn’t want to become the one thing his mother feared growing up.

He really doesn’t know why he came here.

Still, Max smiles the moment she finds her friends and he finds he doesn’t really care anyways. She’s happy, whatever. Doesn’t matter. It’s not like he cares, it’s just. If she’s happy, he’s safe. That’s all.

His blood runs cold though when he’s reminded of why he’s here, because Harrington’s right by the kids joking with Max’s boyfriend and licking up ice cream.

Ignoring how the sight bothers him in a strange kind of way, he makes his presence known by striding over and pushing himself between the two. “Hey, Harrington,” he purrs. The boy behind him doesn’t seem to mind or care, seemingly back in his gaming mindset.

Harrington looks at Billy surprised then suspiciously, “What are you doing here?”

“Drove Maxine here.”

“I’ve never seen you actually in the arcade.”

He drops his smile, puckers his lips in thought and looks off nodding, “Yeah, well…” his eyes catch Harrington’s again teasingly, “Now you have.” It was a shitty response, but it seemed to work because Harrington looked mildly in awe before shoving the rest of the cone in his mouth and straightening himself.

“Well, what do you want?” He speaks while chewing.

“People talk, Harrington,” Billy fights the grin threatening to come onto his face again when he notices Harrington shifting uncomfortably, “somebody wounded?”

 _“No,”_ Harrington snaps almost too quickly, “Nobody’s wounded.”

_Like hell._

“Dead?”

Harrington’s face scrunches up before he starts waving his hands around, “Look, Hargrove, I’m not up for small talk. Just mind your own fucking business.”

Billy snorted and leaned in further, “This ain’t small talk, pretty boy. I’m your friend, yeah? You can trust me.” His voice drops low in a mocking way, he knows that it pisses Harrington off because he’s heard so many of his former best friends bullshit him like that. Thrill runs through him when the brunette starts opening his mouth to retort. _Finally,_ an excuse.

But before Harrington can say anything, a fancy looking man comes in from behind and clears his throat.

Harrington closes his mouth and clenches his jaw, glares daggers at Billy before going with the man out the front doors. The man looks strangely like him.

Billy feels almost offended at being left just when things were getting interesting, but he crosses his arms regardless and stares at Max beating the other kids in games pridefully. Whatever, he doesn’t care.

Though he says that, his mind runs rampant with ideas and possibilities and he silently curses himself in realization when they drift to the beach and certain things Carol’s said about Harrington in the past.

_Shit._

When he’s home, he gets the beating of a fucking lifetime but he feels kind of like he deserves it.

Also, now he’s got something to hold over Harrington’s head.

  
  


One.

Two.

Three.

Billy’s got a habit of counting things to make sure the routine’s right on the dot.

He counts minutes, mostly. Seconds if he’s feeling risky.

When he gets ready, he expects himself to finish dressing within a minute. With getting his hair done and eating at the same time, it’s usually two minutes. When he’s brushing his teeth, a minute and a half to two minutes. It’s a simple thing, he started off by his morning timer before Neil took it from him because it rang loudly whenever it went off. So he learned to count in his head.

The reason why he does it is to get out before Neil wakes up.

Neil wakes up at seven, school starts at eight. Billy struggles sleeping a lot and it’s cursed him in the past with waking up five minutes before Neil’s day would start, and he’s trained himself to either stay up on the nights he feel he won’t last, or wake up as soon as possible. The blinds are always open just a little bit to force him.

Typically, he has an hour left before Neil wakes to get ready. But Max does a lot of extra things, and wakes up a little over twenty minutes after Billy has. So he adapted the first time and learned to make her breakfast as well as make sure her skateboard’s right by the front door at all times so they don’t waste too much time. If he wakes her up, she ends up oversleeping or complaining and when she complains, Susan wakes. And when Susan wakes, his dad wakes. He doesn’t need that.

One.

Two.

He winces when his hands drop to his hips after finally finishing with his usual routine. His hair isn’t as neat as usual, but there are bruises on his knuckles from being shoved into his closet and hitting them on the edge of the shelves last night. He has some makeup he stole from Max, though, to help cover things up.

It’s less effective in practice, but Neil knows when those days come and so he keeps Billy looking fresh and untouched for the leading up days. Unless he’s feeling particularly angry.

“Breakfast?” Max asks again from his doorway. She’s been waking up way earlier than usual.

“Bacon and eggs,” he answers while putting on his shoes. She stays there for a moment, looking at him, before slipping away again.

Begrudgingly, Billy gives up on taming his hair and ends up pushing them behind his ears completely. It shows off a small insecurity of his, but he tries not to think about it because the hair’s just constantly in his face when he’s putting on the other shoe and it’s annoying.

_I’ve never heard him talk about his parents._

Billy’s mind is running its mouth again as he drives now, Max as silent as ever.

_“Nobody’s wounded.”_

“Your ears are poking out,” Max points out. Billy parks sharply and grins when Max nearly hits her head on the car door. “Shut the fuck up,” he retorts with unnecessary aggression and watches her tremble nervously.

“Whatever,” she mumbles and gets out.

He pulls the hair out from behind his ears and tousles it a bit with his fingers before leaving his car and heading to Tommy and Carol. Ignores the stinging still prominent on his knuckles.

“How’d it go?” Carol asks all too curiously once she sees Billy. Tommy’s brows knit together in confusion and he tightens his arm around Carol, but he stays silent.

“Tough nut to crack.” Billy stretches his back and eyes Tommy suspiciously, watching him glare at the ground. _What’s up with the prissy bitch?_

Before he can ask anything, he hears the familiar rev of an engine and sees Harrington pull up. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters. Tommy stiffens.

Carol grins at the sight of Harrington leaving his car, “Dickhead,” she mutters to herself.

Tommy inhales through his nose, smiles tight-lipped at Billy then starts dragging Carol off much to her reluctance the moment Harrington’s looked over.

Billy shouts, “Hey, princess--”

“Shut up.”

Harrington looks paler than usual, bags under his eyes and his posture is concerningly slouched. Billy’s brows raise in surprise then furrow in anger, “Fuck you just say to me?”

The brunette doesn’t even spare a chance to fight and storms off into the school, ignoring the insults Billy’s throwing at him.

_Little shit._

But he feels cocky, because he _knows_ now and so he runs in behind and follows Harrington until they’ve reached a relatively emptier area of the school and then he shoves Harrington against a locker.

“What the fuck, Hargrove?”

Harrington feels far too weak when he struggles, too half-assed and tired. Billy’s too familiar with being that way.

“I know what happened,” Billy speaks smugly.

All the blood leaves Harrington’s face and Billy swears he can see his soul leave his body in fear. It almost fills him with satisfaction when Harrington sputters incoherent words out until he sees those once-clear honey pool eyes start to gloss over.

“Who told you?”

“Nobody,” he grins coldly, “I figured it out, buddy. That was your daddy yesterday, yeah?”

Harrington’s cheeks start to get red and he swallows, “So what if it was? That doesn’t tell you anything.”

“Don’t think so, princess, Carol’s got a big mouth.”

He remembers Carol mentioning how Harrington’s room used to be full of pictures of him and his family-- but always lacking his mother.

“Mommy issues?” Billy tests. Saying it aloud though feels weird on his tongue, it comes out bitter and it hits a little close to home but he ignores it. Harrington’s look of absolute dread makes his stomach feel cold though.

“Maybe. What’s it matter?” the boy asks.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

“I don’t take orders--”

“Guess you wouldn’t mind if people knew about your mommy. Maybe I should sprinkle in some bullshit, they’ll take anything I vomit.” Billy knows he’s won, from the look on Harrington’s face to the way Harrington stops struggling and looks off.

Harrington sighs, weakly raises his head. “What do you want?”

Billy grins and drops Harrington, “Tammy Thompson. Tell her to fuck off.”

“What?” Harrington looks angry now, but then Billy dusts his shoulder and smirks.

“Just go up to her and ask her to mind her own business. That too much for you, mommy’s boy?”

Harrington shuts his mouth and groans, “I’m not doing anything you ask me. Fuck you.” And he walks off.

Billy doesn’t do anything, because he knows he’s got Harrington wrapped around his finger now. He just has to play the waiting game, and he’s a patient man.

He did completely improvise it though, he only gave Harrington something to do because he wanted to make it clear who Harrington answers to now. But, honestly, he’s got no idea why he asked him to shit on Tammy. She’s sweet.

_She’s a fucking creep._

Holding his breath, he waits until the bell rings and moves on to class.

  
  


“Hold your fucking form, Tommy,” Billy spits at his friend. Tommy simply nods and shakily tries to straighten himself, “I haven’t been eating right, sorry boss.”

“I don’t give a shit about your sob story. Get a grip.” Sure, it’s harsh, but it’s true. Just because Tommy looks disheartened and stressed as fuck, just because eating’s important to Billy’s health as well doesn’t mean that Hagan can get away with sucking at basketball.

Carol and Wheeler watch from the sidelines, visibly distraught from each others presence and sitting as far away from each other as possible. Byers is sitting near Wheeler, cheering on Harrington and honestly pissing off Billy to hell.

“Harrington, tell that kid to shut up,” Billy tries while they’re having a break, and Harrington clearly hesitates before yelling, “Calm down, Jonathan!”

Wheeler snorts and pats Byers, nods respectfully towards Harrington and he nods back with a stupid smile. Honestly, Billy has no idea why Harrington still involves himself with that prude. She _cheated_ on him, for God’s sake. He should go for somebody better.

Though, honestly, Billy’s not big on love. It’s not his scene. Carol and Tommy always gush over each other, but when a guy’s near Perkins she starts talking about sucking his dick almost immediately. It gets Tommy riled up, but Billy knows she wouldn’t actually.

Probably.

“Good boy,” Billy says simply but he catches the little glint in Harrington’s eyes when he says that. A little spark of rage. He grins to himself, knowing he has the upper hand, and gets into position.

Only for the coach to cut things short because his fucking wife needs him. Jesus, Billy will never understand. Everyone lets out a groan in unison, they all were so worked up from the last match and when they walked into the locker rooms, Tommy challenged some other boy to an arm wrestling contest to settle who really won that round.

Billy scoffs and enters the showers, runs his hands through his hair and lets the cool water wash over his muscles.

“Woah, Hargrove,” Harrington stutters. Billy glares at him and follows his line of sight down to his knuckles, and his heart stops. “Fight?”

_Fight._

“Yeah, a fight,” he lies through his teeth and continues to wash his hair, ignoring the bare milky skin right next to him. The bruises will go away soon, that’s what he tells himself.

Silence fills the room for a bit save for the others around them talking and laughing, then Harrington breaks through it with his soft voice.

“She cried.”

“What?” Billy opened his eyes and looked at the brown ones, confused.

“Tammy.”

“Oh.” A pang of guilt. He covered it up with a nod and a stretched grin, “Deserved it.”

Harrington exhales a little irritated, “Think so? I didn’t even know she was following me. Could’ve gone without that knowledge, but,” he shrugs, “she’s not a bad person. Said she didn’t mean to.”

Billy scoffs and starts washing the shampoo out of his hair. He ignores the others around them that are talking about the game, speaks as softly as he can, “You’re naive, Harrington. She didn’t mean to?” He snorts, “Sure, all those times she coincidentally stumbled into you doing all that shit. That accidental ending up on the same trip as you, the purely convenient running into you when you lost your books for English and then somehow having them with her. Yeah, that’s all a coincidence.”

Harrington furrows his brow, “She’s not a bad person,” he repeats.

“You’re naive. Pretty little shits like you are too easy to take advantage of,” Billy states and watches the others flood out the room in some sort of race against time. The water’s getting colder.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Harrington,” Billy leans in, tries not to press himself against the brunette but he’s so close he can smell him and it almost enchants him, “I’m not blackmailing you for friendship. You’re still listening to me, but we aren’t _talking._ Got that? I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t care what you think of me or her, what I care about was that you did it. How about I give you something new to do?”

Harrington pales, gulps. Billy’s eyes follow the bobbing of his adam’s apple.

“Okay, jeez,” Harrington whispers whistle-like, “what do you want?”

It’s clear he’s trying to avoid another fight.

Billy smirks and pulls back, lets the water rinse the rest of the shampoo out of his hair as he painfully (but quietly) cracks his knuckles. “Let’s see…”

Tommy was complaining earlier, brought the team down. Maybe he needs some motivation?

He’d listen to Harrington, even if he won’t admit it.

“Tell Tommy he’s a skinny bitch, tell him he should eat more.”

“Skinny… this kind of sounds like you’re asking me to help him?”

“Shut the fuck up, and do it,” Billy snarls and runs his hands through his curly locks again.

Harrington shrugs and sighs, “Fine, whatever.”

A smile is brought to his face and he nods, “Now fuck off.”

“What?”

“I said fuck off.”

Without much pushing, Harrington just up and leaves the showers grabbing a towel and mumbling shit to himself. Billy leans his head against the wall and thinks. He’s done too much kind shit, he got Tammy off Harrington’s back and now he’s getting Harrington to help Tommy eat more. Obviously, it’s all just-- it’s all within reason. Tammy was spreading too many rumors and Billy was tired of hearing about it, Tommy not eating brings down the team and that’s it. That’s what he convinces himself.

Billy straightens his back, deciding he needs to change the orders around a bit. He’s been too kind on Harrington.

But then he hears some shouting and he recognizes it to be the voice of Tommy H.

Shit.

He quickly turns off the shower and grabs his towel, dries his hair as quick as possible and wraps it around his waist before storming out the showers angrily.

“-- wanna fucking repeat that?!”

There, Harrington’s pushed up against a locker being screamed at by Tommy. Billy’s blood boils at the sight, Harrington’s far too weak to fight back and of _course_ Tommy wouldn’t take shit well. Fucking hell.

The other kids were cheering Tommy on and it pissed Billy off more, he stormed in and shoved Tommy off Harrington. “What the fuck?” Tommy yelled.

“What the fuck’s up with you, Hagan?” Billy growls, keeps his hand firmly on Harrington’s shoulder to help keep him upright. Harrington’s nose is bleeding, it triggers something primal within Billy. He immediately lets go of Harrington, places himself in front of Tommy to block him from the brunette and crosses his arms.

“That asshole called me fuckin’ skinny, Hargrove, let me have at him!” Tommy shouts and tries to push past Billy, only to be shoved back again. “What the fuck, Billy?”

“No fucking fighting, he’s right, you’re a fucking twig,” Billy says after looking Tommy up and down. The other boys stay silent. He can hear Harrington struggling to breathe behind him, and his nose flares in anger.

Before Tommy can say anything, Billy slams his locker open to grab his clothes and then he wraps his fingers around Harrington’s bicep to pull him out of the locker room. It’s not exactly ideal to be naked in the corridors, but nobody’s around, so Billy takes him to a thankfully unoccupied storage closet and casually gets dressed in front of him.

“Why’d you…?”

“Shut up,” Billy says after he’s finally slipped into his shirt and he tosses the towel off, doesn’t really care. He looks over at Harrington, who’s looking rather tipsy and still bleeding. “Did he hit you?”

“Slammed me against the fuckin’ bench, yeah.”

Billy can feel the anger bubbling in him so strongly, he nods and notices Harrington’s about to fall over again, “Let’s take you to the nurse’s, then.”

“What?” Harrington looks confused before Billy places his arm around his waist and hoists him up from the corner, opening the door and helping Harrington walk half the way.

Harrington pushes himself away from Billy but still walks close to him, “I can walk myself,” he mutters while holding his nose.

Billy snorts and keeps his hand on the small of Harrington’s back, “Sure you can.”

He doesn’t know why he helped Harrington at all, he doesn’t know why he’s helping him right _now_ but Max can wait. Tommy was just being a bit of a bitch and Billy was already in a bad mood. He, strangely, didn’t hit Tommy though. A small part of him regrets it when he thinks back to the beach and how Harrington must feel in his situation.

Whatever.

He doesn’t care.

He still has to think up what to ask next of Harrington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr is nancywrote!! i hope the story is coming along so far, i wanna try to put in as much as i can in each chapter as well as squeeze in the right things but i've still gotta get a feel of this world!!
> 
> this is my 2nd not one-shot and i may not post as consistently still, i've got to work on my lilaboc one as well but this one was an idea i wanted for awhile :) i may not get to comments right away here, but i'm active on tumblr so feel free to leave stuff there if you'd like! i accept prompts/requests for harringrove one shots there as well :D thank you for reading!!!


	2. hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy lets his guard down. Just for a moment.

A knock jolts Billy from his sleep, messy curls flopping over his face and sweat dripping down the ridge of his jaw. The sheets stick to him and he finds that the sun is shining in, fear strikes him when he realizes it’s too bright to be that early in the morning. He looks at his door and swallows, slowly lowers himself and pretends he overslept. Maybe Neil would leave him alone.

It’s a pathetic belief, because it never works, but it’s a habit he’s gained from his younger days. Maybe Neil will leave him alone this time, he always thinks. Maybe. Just maybe.

“Billy, it’s been two minutes,” a familiar voice belonging to a female speaks from the other side of the door.

Relief rushes through Billy when he realizes it’s Max, and he finds tears filling his eyes and clears his throat, “Make breakfast yourself, I’ll get ready.” He knows Max is still there, and raises his voice reluctantly, _“Max.”_

He finds he’s more scared of scaring her away than he is of waking his dad now. It must be the fear that if she’s not there to witness it, Neil won’t hold back. He doesn’t want that.

Finally footsteps fade and Billy sighs with drowsiness, lifting himself off the bed. His throat feels dry and he was sweating all night, he grabs his half-empty bottle of water from a few days ago and chugs the rest of it down. It runs down his throat warm, but doesn’t calm him any.

Lazily, Billy runs through his showering process which usually he takes his time with since he’d have more than twenty minutes to go through the rest of the routine, but right now he rushes through it with some barely slapped on shampoo and conditioner as well as a quick wash of the rest of the body. The water was cold, he needed to wake up.

Once he’s out he doesn’t bother to dry his hair fully or style it, instead he slips into his usual clothes and lets his damp hair lay over the top of his leather jacket as he brushes his teeth. He doesn’t feel like eating, he’s too scared to take his time.

One.

The moment he’s done with brushing his teeth and tongue he takes another look in the mirror and realizes he looks like shit. “Fuck.” His voice is low and guttural, slick with sleep and it vibrates in his throat as dry as ever.

“Billy!” He hears Max’s voice softly echo from the living room and he steals one of her hair ties near the sink and ties his hair up as quickly as possible.

“I’m coming!” Billy responds as he runs out the bathroom and navigates to the front door. Max comes from behind with the keys again and he takes them out of her hands a lot gentler this time. “Thanks,” he mutters shyly while unlocking the front door.

When they’re in the car, the air’s a lot less tense and maybe it’s just the fresh feeling of getting out of the shower or the fact that Billy’s not suffocating in his cologne, but Max seems calmer too. The air is silent, soft, windy and just like any other day.

Strangely, Billy feels kind of enlightened. Max knows if Billy woke up any later, he’d get into trouble with Neil, and honestly Billy thought she wanted him dead but if she woke him up so early, maybe he should try too.

But, he’s not a very honest or emotional person. The most she’ll get is the thanks, less insults, and that’s all. That’s all he can do.

“Hey, are you wearing my hair tie?” Max asks suddenly, breaking the calm atmosphere and making all the blood rush to Billy’s cheeks. And ears, his ears get red.

“Yeah,” he says dumbly while driving. “Wet hair.”

Max hums and smiles, continues looking out the window, “Neat look.”

“Thanks.”

_Okay, so she’ll get two thanks’._

He huffs air through his nose amused, then parks. “Good luck,” he says though it comes out mocking while he unlocks the doors.

Max gets out and nods, “You too.” And off she goes after shutting the door.

Billy stays in the car again, looks at the wheel instead of the parking lot and finds his hands shaking, knuckles white.

_I nearly overslept._

_No, scratch that, I_ did _oversleep. If Max hadn’t woken me up, God.._

_The things Neil would have done to me._

A shiver runs down his spine and he loosens his grip on the wheel, lets his hands fall into his lap and sighs in relief. His nostrils flare when he closes his eyes and bites his tongue, trying to fight back the tears of overwhelming relief and fear. His heart was racing.

Another knock at the window pushes him out of his thoughts and he opens his eyes to see Nancy Wheeler, looking angrily at him. Amusement fills him.

He opens the door and gets out, shuts it behind him and asserts his dominance by straightening himself to tower over her, “You called?”

“Leave Steve alone.” She’s clearly shaking a bit talking to Billy, and it provides him some entertainment.

“Leave Steve alone?” He mocks, voice wavering as he says Harrington’s name. It sounds weird on his tongue, but it rolls off so nicely.

Apparently Wheeler didn’t like that though, shown through her crossing her arms. “I know you’re blackmailing him, but seriously, he doesn’t deserve it. You don’t know what he’s going through right now, and I don’t know what you have planned but--”

 _“What I have planned?”_ Billy barks laughing, “It’s all improv, Wheeler, it’s what I’ll plan and what I’m planning, not what I’ve _been_ planning. There’s a difference.”

Wheeler frowns and knits her brows together, “You broke his nose.”

He feels rage boil in him at the memory and the idea, and drops his smile immediately, “That was all Tommy. I didn’t think Hagan would go that far.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? Don’t lie, Steve’s naive.”

Billy snarls and leans into Wheeler’s personal space. He keeps her trapped in his gaze and sets her with the most intense glare he’ll ever give anybody. “Look, Wheeler. I get your concern, really, but what happened was that Tommy took things a little too far and Stevie boy got his gas cut. So what? _You_ don’t know _anything,_ don’t pretend you do,” Billy practically growls. Even though it’s early in the morning and it’s still sunny out, he’s omitting a dark aura around him and intimidating anybody that passes by. “I helped him to the nurses office. Does that say something? Go fuck your little boyfriend over there and mind your own fucking business for once.”

It’s aggressive, it’s probably unnecessary, but Billy’s beyond pissed and Wheeler isn’t helping his mood any. Before she can speak, a voice rises from their side.

“Uh, Nance?”

Harrington says confused, holding onto her arm to pull her back from Billy a bit for her comfort. Billy leans back cockily, smirks at the look of anger on her face. He looks to Harrington and switches his smirk to a sunny smile that he usually uses on the ladies, but both Harrington and Wheeler recognize it and it sets Wheeler off even more. “We were just talkin’, right, Nance?” He says mockingly.

Wheeler chokes out an insult but then groans and stomps off to her boyfriend. Billy grins ear to ear and watches her leave. “Still a bitch,” he mutters.

“Watch it, Hargrove, that’s my friend,” Harrington hisses, but it’s all held under a friendly guise as he smiles awkwardly at Billy. “Did you tie your hair up today?”

_Oh, okay, so apparently Harrington’s touchy._

Because Harrington’s long, slender fingers are twirling some of Billy’s locks around and gently brushing his little ponytail admiringly, and Billy finds himself leaning into it a bit. “It’s wet, woke up later than usual.”

“Sheesh, school starts at eight, not seven,” Harrington huffs and pulls his hand away. Billy almost follows it. Almost.

“You say that, but you get here earlier than I do.”

Harrington giggles and nods, “I get more time with my friends, and sometimes I’m the one who has to drop the kids off.”

Right.

Harrington has friends and shit.

Billy crosses his arms and leans against his car, “How’s your nose?”

He knows he said before that he didn’t want small talk, he didn’t want friendship, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. Or concern. Of course, within reason, he doesn’t..

He doesn’t like, want Harrington backing out of the deal and telling Tommy or something.

Harrington shrugs. “It’s been better.” He touches the white patch plastered onto the bridge of his nose and winces, “He really went for it.”

“I should have clotheslined the son of a bitch,” Billy says flatly.

Harrington furrows his brows together and lets his hands fall, “Why? Isn’t he your best friend?”

“Far from it. He’s an asshole.”

“I only ever see you hang out with him or Carol.”

Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds, with Billy holding his breath trying to think up a response. But then, speaking of the devil, Tommy H. and Carol walk over hand in hand and glare at Harrington. “What’s he want?” Carol asks like he’s not there.

“Nothing,” Harrington answers quickly and coldly then speed walks away. Tommy snorts, “What a pussy.”

“What’d he say?” Carol, ever so curious, continues pestering. Billy exhales through his nose sharply and looks at the sky, “Dunno, wasn’t paying attention.”

“Nice. Get ‘em where it hurts.”

_I didn’t even say anything bad, jackass._

Billy notices Tommy looks a little different, and feels a smug grin tug at his lips, “You been eating, Hagan? Skin’s not looking so dry.”

Tommy’s face reddens and Carol giggles, “He took in some meat since basketball, no idea why. I might convince him to try my cooking.”

Both Tommy and Billy share a look of absolute dread and Billy gulps, “Maybe he can stick to like… grocery brands or some shit,” he tries to defend. Tommy nods.

Yeah, Tommy’s an asshole, but nobody horrible enough is deserving of Carol’s cooking. You’d need somebody who’s done some fucked up shit to warrant that kind of torture

Carol rolls her eyes and groans, “Ugh, whatever. Literature club’s got a meeting after school, usual classroom. Don’t be late,” she informs and pulls Tommy behind her to enter the school building. Billy ponders for a moment, thinking maybe he shouldn’t go before he remembers another thing--

Why he still even goes there to begin with.

The shitty poetry was a start, but something kept him coming after the second try. Even if he’s not part of the Literature club, because God knows the weirdos there are a bitch to deal with and Billy’s not into all the deep philosophical talks.

_Harrington._

The first time he went, he was bored but thought that maybe it’d get better. So he tried a second time, and it most definitely wasn’t any less boring but it _was_ more _interesting._ Harrington had sat across from him, slouched in his seat and boredly fidgeting with his pen with Wheeler to his right. He wasn’t looking anywhere, just the ground while everyone talked about their next project.

Since then, Billy has been trying his best to allocate time to go to the meet ups just to watch Harrington fidget or mumble or talk and write.

Okay, so _maybe_ stalker behavior, just a little bit. The thought still makes his stomach churn.

 _But,_ whenever the teacher gives out the actual interesting activities-- the writing, the reading, and the analysing like in English, Billy actually finds himself enjoying hanging around there. Harrington’s nonchalant presence is only a bonus.

At first he just went there in hopes of invoking fights, or bettering Harrington at yet another thing.

He’s definitely better in the writing aspect, definitely more insightful with reading (because he actually reads) and definitely bettering Harrington a lot in Literature without the other knowing. But, after that competition wore down a little, Billy found himself just unable to tear his eyes away sometimes.

Like, well, Harrington just looked nice sometimes. And didn’t regard him with as much hate or distaste.

That’s all.

But Billy can use this to his advantage, because he’s still gotta plan his next request but he has an inkling of an idea of what to do next. Just a small little possibility.

He goes about his day like usual, and once it’s over with he runs past his English classroom and slides around the corners to make it to Literature before the others do. He just likes to help out the teacher with her setting up before anything else, even if she’s not always around because Literature’s self-run by the students themselves.

She’s not here today, it seems, Billy mopes disappointedly then takes his seat in the circle of chairs and plays with his hair. It’s drier, but it’s not dry enough. If he takes it out he’d look like a wet poodle.

The door opens behind him and in comes Tammy Thompson. She’s either in Music or Literature, he’s surprised she chose to come to Literature today. He silently prays she won’t get close to Harrington.

If she does, though, Billy will come in anyways.

Behind her, her friends come in and slowly flood in more students. Billy plays coy, doesn’t raise his head to acknowledge their existence until he hears the familiar tired sigh of his plaything.

Harrington, yet again, sits across from him, leaning back and almost sliding off the chair with how he’s positioned. His hair is messier than it was in the morning, and he takes a lighter out his pocket and starts playing with it.

Of course, Wheeler’s there beside him. But she’s talking with some other girl Billy’s never learned the name of.

With how bored and uncaring Harrington looks anytime it’s Literature, Billy’s surprised no girl’s jumped on his dick yet. It’s very entrancing, how he just drops his nice guy act and immediately wears out when it’s club time. The way Harrington’s voice drops several octaves lower than usual in a vain attempt to seem as small as possible while also keeping up his little King Steve act in the club, as though it wasn’t already gone.

Billy nearly snorts at the fact that _he’s_ the one thinking of Harrington’s qualities and takes a quick scan of the room to see if anyone else is looking at the brunette. He sees Tammy almost immediately.

The girl catches his eye after a moment, tenses, then drops her gaze to the ground. Billy’s nostrils flare and he grins with victory. _Bitch._

“Billy, any ideas?” A girl next to Wheeler asks.

“What?”

Usually he’s just kind of existing in the space, hovering around and participating in the independent activities. This kind of attention is unusual for him.

_I guess I am sort of widely known in here for being the only one to get an A+ on that rigged test._

“We’re thinking of writing a book in relation to society and the pressure it puts on women. Just some sort of novella covering all the bases....” the girl continues rambling and it all falls on deaf ears. Billy looks to Harrington and finds the brunette smirking all hot-like and amused at the attention Billy’s given.

He clears his throat and Harrington snaps his eyes to him, immediately dropping his smirk to leave his mouth open just a little. Billy looks back at the girl and at Harrington, and raises his brows.

Harrington seems to get the picture and cuts her off, “I don’t think Billy’s a girl type.”

_You little shit._

Billy snorts at the implications and opens his eyes to find everybody looking at him now. The girl speaks up again, “Oh, but--”

Harrington notices the look of displeasure on Billy’s face and immediately sits straight, “Actually, uh, I think I’m sick. I might have to leave early. Billy, could you give me a ride?”

Billy grins and gets up, already spinning the keys in his hand, “Sure thing.”

Shitty save, but he’ll take it.

Wheeler reddens and tries to butt in but Billy’s already out the door with Harrington close behind, and he shuts it behind him.

“Alright, well, now what? Jesus Billy, I left early,” Harrington says, crossing his arms.

“Don’t act like you cared, idiot, feel alright?” Billy asks. He knows it’s a stupid question, because obviously Harrington was lying, but honestly, Billy doesn’t trust himself. He’s a little curious anyways.

The brunette just grins and shakes his head, “I was lying, stupid. I do need to get somewhere though.”

“Where?”

A pause.

“Just some place.”

Billy saw the hesitation, notices the sweat. “Need a ride?” He persists nevertheless. Maybe it’s something to do with his dad, or his mom. _A funeral, or something?_

He’s not trying to intrude, he doesn’t want to get involved with the other’s family matters. But something in him is pulling his leg and saying he should insist on things anyways, should be around Harrington more. _Because what if somebody hurt him?_

_That’s a stupid thought. Harrington can protect himself._

But Billy knows deep down Harrington really can’t, and he blocks that tug of concern and fear and suffocates it with pride and bad rep. He doesn’t care about Harrington, him and Harrington are publicly known to hate each other. He’s just easing Harrington up, so that he’ll be more accepting of any future requests.

Speaking of..

“I don’t need anything, I have my own car, thanks,” Harrington states.

Billy grunts in affirmation then nods, grinning, “Yeah, sure would suck if you left me all on my own here with an open mouth though. Rumors spread quick.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Need a ride?” Billy repeats.

Harrington furrows his brows, swallows. He uncrosses his arms and starts walking to the opposite side of the hallway, towards the school’s parking lot. “Hurry up, asshole,” he hisses.

Billy fights down the smirk threatening to bubble up and catches up, making sure his keys are firmly in his grasp and that nobody’s around and nobody’s seeing them. Thankfully, nobody’s in sight.

He practically skips along behind Harrington. It’s not that he’s slow, he’s not that much shorter than the brunette, it’s that Harrington seems to be wearing particularly form-fitting jeans today and it’s distracting him. Obviously, because it’s just very much outlining his ass. That’s all though. Any ass is an ass to Billy.

“Where’s your car?”

He raises his head alarmed and finds Harrington’s eyes, narrowed at him confused. _At least he doesn’t know._

“I only ever park in one place, princess.” When his voice lowers to roll off the nickname, he takes note of the light pink dusting Harrington’s cheeks and licks his lips with a grin. “Something wrong?” He doesn’t know why he pushed, doesn’t understand what he’s saying until it’s out and even then doesn’t make a move to take it back. A small heat creeping down south that he’d much rather ignore, and he tries his best to as Harrington’s eyes travel to his lips.

“No,” Harrington almost-whispers, brokenly, “I almost forgot. Sorry.” And Billy almost misses the way Harrington bites his lips when he turns his head to find the car. Almost.

After realizing Harrington didn’t at all remember where Billy parks anyways, he walks in front of him and starts heading to his car. He knows the brunette will be on his tail anyways, he thinks smugly. With a quick glance behind him, he confirms it for sure seeing Harrington just a few cars away.

“Hurry up, asshole!” He shouts. It comes out colder than intended, but Harrington just shakes his head chuckling and quickens his pace. Once he’s finally a few steps over, Billy opens the door for him and heads on over to the other side to get into the driver’s seat.

Light sounds of leather squeaks reminds Billy of his situation and he looks to his side, watching Harrington shut the door a little too hard. “Careful.”

Harrington mumbles something under his breath, probably an insult, and Billy decides to let it go for now as much as it tempts him to take advantage of it. “Where we headed to?” He puts his hands on the wheel, basking in the familiar feeling of cold material in his palms.

Harrington mumbles something yet again, and Billy starts to get a bit impatient.

“Use your fucking words, Harrington.”

“The fuckin’ hospital, jeez.”

_The hospital?_

Billy’s already driving as millions of thoughts race through his head, mostly around the idea that _Harrington’s mom should be dead, right?_ Because that’s what he thought happened. He’s confused, but he keeps going down the road and tries not to get overwhelmed with concern and questions.

It’s a few minutes of long silence before Harrington’s shifting and fidgeting start to get on Billy’s nerves.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Harrington asks stupidly, still moving around.

Billy pauses, looks at him disappointed and back at the road, “Stop moving so much.”

“What? Moving?”

“Fidgeting, Harrington.”

Silence.

And then more shifting.

“Jesus --” Billy reaches a hand out and firmly places it on Harrington’s thighs, keeping him glued to the seat, “-- There.”

He doesn’t realize how weird the action is until he gets a little uncomfortable by how incredibly silent Harrington’s gone, to the point of him only hearing his own breathing, and he looks over to realize his hand’s _gripping_ Harrington’s thigh and hasn’t moved an inch since it grabbed.

“Shit- uh, sorry.” He snaps his hand back and places it on the wheel again awkwardly. His cheeks warm up and he thinks to himself that he’s a fucking idiot while avoiding any sort of eye contact with the other.

Harrington’s stopped moving so much though, and he’s at least a little relieved by that.

When they get to the hospital, Billy unlocks the doors and as soon as Harrington has his hands on the handle, he locks them again.

“Uh. Hargrove?”

“Why’re we at the hospital?”

Harrington’s brows knit together in confusion and he stares at Billy for a few seconds.

“... I thought you knew?”

Well, he knew that something was wrong with Harrington’s mom. That’s all, really. He assumed she was _dead._

_So, that could only mean one thing._

“Are you hurt? Is your dad okay?” The questions come out more concerned and emotional than ever intended, and Billy has to internally cringe at his pitch until Harrington just honest to god _laughs._

A high, sugary and relieved laugh filled with so much emotion that it’s almost watery. Harrington’s head throws back as the joy fills his body and features and his eyes close to calm down. He takes a deep breath and looks at Billy, smiling, “So you’ve been blackmailing me with assumptions this whole time?”

Billy pouted. “I thought your mom’s dead.”

Harrington chuckles breathlessly, and Billy’s face is getting warmer by the second. Not just by embarrassment, but Harrington’s got a real cute laugh. Like, _really cute._

“No. Well, not really. She’s weak. Not dead, though,” Harrington says through a cheek-hurting smile and Billy finds relief overtaking him at this comment.

“She’s not dead,” Billy sighs happily.

“Not at all.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Billy’s voice comes out as dreamy and relieved but also a little mocking.

Harrington just nods like he’s talking to a baby, and smiles still, “It is pretty cool. My dad came by at the arcade to just get an update, he’s not always around anymore.”

Billy unlocks the doors and steps out, trying not to let a frown overtake him at the reminder of his own dad. “He a good dad?” He finds himself asking.

_If he’s not, I’ll deal with him myself._

“Yeah, he does his job. Just very busy,” Harrington says once he’s out, putting his hands in his pockets and walking alongside Billy into the hospital. “You know, my mom would be happy to know I made a new friend my age this time.”

_Friend._

Billy nods instead of saying anything, doesn’t want to ruin the moment because he finds he actually kind of likes that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It might have been his imagination, but Billy swears he heard a little voice crack in that. He feels a little rush of anger at the other kids, at Tommy H. and Carol for leaving Harrington behind, at everyone who’s ever left Harrington in the dark in the past.

Thinking of how Tommy H. hurt Harrington, Billy suddenly feels bad. But he’s not.. he’s not _ready_ to say sorry yet. He just can’t.

He looks at Harrington as he speaks with the lady at the front desk, doesn’t pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth and just _looks._

A complicated puzzle.

All his pieces are everywhere. People see everything, they just can’t put it together. They don’t ever try to.

A man who can hold a party every other day without his parents’ supervision, a man who got cheated on and stayed hanging out with the cheater, someone who hangs out with kids after school like they’re friends and got knocked down a peg by a new student just for failing to defeat him in a few games. Nobody ever tries to put it together, they just hear what they’ve seen and string along with the lies instead.

They say he’s just a rebel for the parties, say he’s a cuck for being with his ex, joke that he’s into kids or that he’s just got the same humor as one himself and they all tell him he’s worthless because he lost. They just take the crown away, don’t even think about it.

He’s a little like Billy. A stage show set up by other students, never really analysed or properly understood for what goes on behind the curtains. Nobody thinks to look up at the lights and the ropes when they’re on the stage. Nobody ever tries to acknowledge the way things work and what they come from-- only that it does. Forced into acting out scenes they weren’t supposed to be part of. Scenes that only appeal to the audience.

Billy darkens, crosses his arms leaning on the wall by the hall waiting for Harrington across the room. Harrington raises his head while the lady is typing and looks at Billy. Smiles nervously.

Billy smiles back reassuringly.

And with that simple, genuine and soft smile, something shines in Harrington’s eyes and all at once Billy’s got a little taste of that friendly smile Harrington’s always giving his closest friends as well as those pretty reddened cheeks that Harrington used have a lot more whenever he _really_ smiled. When he had friends his age. Before Billy.

It warms his heart, and Billy drops his gaze reluctantly as the lady continues talking to Harrington. Maybe he should start calling him Steve.

Finally, Harrington walks over and gently pokes Billy, snapping him out of his trance. “You wanna come with me?” He asks shyly.

Billy grins. Harrington’s hiding his face in his shirt a little, ducking away from the attention. It’s adorable. He stretches and reaches behind himself to untie his hair, letting it drop to his shoulders regardless of if it looked flat or not. “Why not.”

He doesn’t fail to notice the way Harrington’s breath catches.

After stretching the tie around his wrist, and ruffling up his hair a little, Billy starts walking through the corridors with Harrington leading the way. “Can she…?” He begins, carefully.

“She can talk, she’s just… forgetful. Fragile.”

Billy hums and keeps as close to Harrington as possible, hating the smell of the hospital. It’s just.. bad. Old. Rotten. He doesn’t like hospitals, never did.

They come to a halt in front of a gray door. Harrington hesitates with his hand on the handle.

“Okay, so, just wanna warn you -- she can be silent sometimes. I may sound insane, talking to myself or something, but.. yeah. Usually I just hang around her, talk with Nance or Jonathan and stuff.” Harrington opens the door slowly and steps in with Billy following cautiously behind.

“Hey mom,” Harrington’s voice is weak and considerably softer the moment he greets his mother. Billy closes the door then turns around and nearly jumps out of his skin at the perfect replica of Harrington. Dark brown hair, pale skin and the same kind of nose. She even smiles similarly and has the same neck, minus the adam’s apple. 

She looks considerably weaker, though. Her skin’s far too pale to be healthy, there are bags under her eyes and she’s already got a few grays in her hair despite how young she should be. Billy almost hates how familiar her smile is. It’s uncanny.

She doesn’t respond to her son. Only nods at him and continues to sit up in her bed while reading a book. Billy watches Harrington, sees him looking down sadly.

Harrington takes a seat by the bed and Billy chooses to pull up a chair right by his, letting his arms linger almost brushing Harrington’s.

“Mom, this is Billy. He’s my friend.”

Immediately, the woman looks up angrily and weakly at Billy. Harrington stutters, places his hand on Billy’s shoulder. Billy feels out of place.

“Don’t worry-- I know I’ve said some stuff in the past, but, he’s really a good guy. It’s okay. I was just angry, but he’s good. He’s okay.” It seems Harrington’s sort of stuttering through his words, as though he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing. But everything he says kind of falls flat on the woman’s ears and Billy feels his chest tighten when he realises that he’s been talked about before.

And not in a good way.

He shrugs Harrington’s hand off tensely and gets up, “Maybe I should go--”

“No, no, stay,” Harrington pulls him back down on the chair and, a little like the car, puts his hand on Billy’s thigh instead. It’s warm, big, the slender fingers almost cover his entire thigh. It brings him some comfort but he still finds it hard to breathe.

_“Please.”_

Billy shuts his mouth and bows his head. “Okay.”

He never thought he’d hear that from Harrington.

The woman is still looking rather intently at Billy, but she drops her glare in favor of the book and starts humming quietly without any words to add.

Billy’s hands drop to his lap and he feels Harrington’s fingers inches away from them. He reaches out with his fingers on one of his hands and just brushes Harrington, as gently and comfortingly as possible.

“So, um,” Harrington’s voice cracks. “I made myself food today.”

Billy looks up at Harrington amused, before he hears a happy hum from his mother and his blood runs cold. Harrington lights up at her glee.

“Yeah, I had some toast. With some jam,” he talks like he’s really talking to someone, and he’s probably used to it but to Billy it sounds like he’s hearing one side of a phone conversation. It’s almost impressive how comfortable Harrington is with this. But he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

Because it implies that Harrington _doesn’t have breakfast._

“You always come to school really early,” Billy states and Harrington tenses up and looks at him like he just remembered he was there, his heart clenches in some hurt but he continues, “don’t like breakfast?”

Harrington giggles stupidly and scratches his neck but keeps his hand on Billy’s thigh. “No, uh, I just never have enough time. Kids and English homework and… stuff.”

_So he’s always dropping kids off._

And English homework? Billy’s brain immediately snaps to attention at this, because it’s something he can do something about. Something he can help Harrington with.

“I can help you with your English homework, you know,” he offers. Says it like he’s always been able to, even if he _was_ an asshole in the past.

Harrington looks away for a moment and Billy uses that to fully encase Harrington’s fingers in his, playing with his fingers while waiting for a response. It’s nice, sue him.

“Do you…” Harrington clears his throat, giggles again like it’s _wrong and awkward,_ “... _like_ English?”

Billy snorts and keeps his eyes glued on Harrington’s fingers, rubbing them with his thumb and just toying with them absent-mindedly. “Yeah, love it. ‘s kind of why I go to Literature sometimes, even if they’re two really different things. Just extra reading time.”

Harrington’s silence makes Billy look up again, “So? You want help?”

“Are you sure?” The brown eyes bore into his a little admiringly, and Billy can’t help but feel his thumb twitch at this attention. His ears are starting to get red, but at least his hair’s down. It’s getting a little harder to breathe though.

“I don’t have much better to do.”

Harrington just smiles at him, a real friendly and genuine one like he’s _one of his closest friends--_ “I’d like that. Thanks, Billy.”

_Billy._

Billy looks down flustered and smiles, mutters a _no problem_ as he continues to play with _Steve’s_ fingers. Steve continues speaking to his mom, and Billy’s almost offended by her silence.

Until a few minutes have passed of Steve letting him play with his fingers, and while Steve’s explaining some kid called Dustin’s new interest, suddenly Steve just grabs Billy’s hands and then intertwines his fingers with one. His thumb rubs on Billy’s, and Billy feels his heart jump.

He just keeps looking at their hands locked with each other dumbfoundedly, mouth parted in a little o as Steve talks like nothing’s happened. HIs heart races with his thoughts, because he feels a little bit fuzzy and cozy and content and he doesn’t know _why._

And he looks up, catches Steve’s eye and Steve smiles wider while talking.

_I’m fucked._

That’s all that goes through his head as he, with wide eyes, just keeps looking at Steve’s face. His heart’s just _gone_ by now.

But he keeps his cool, squeezes Steve’s hand and leans back in his chair to close his eyes and listen in. Maybe he can just rest for a bit.

_“Oh, and you won’t believe what Nancy told me the other day!”_

And the stupidest smile spreads on Billy’s face while he hears Steve’s pleasant voice go on and on about some dumb joke Wheeler made but seems so etheral to Steve for whatever reason.

He honestly could just fall asleep to the sound of him.

  
  


When Billy’s at school the next day, he sees Steve again and almost immediately walks past Tommy H. and Carol to go talk to him.

Obviously, not for friend reasons. Not at all.

Even if they have a conversation that drags on for nearly half an hour.

Then, some dude walks past and pats Billy on the back like they’re good friends, clearly to show off to the girl he’s with and Billy feels anger at being used for shit like that.

And he’s reminded of why he’s even talking to Steve to begin with.

So he closes his eyes, breathes deeply and gets into his little persona again.

But it’s not a persona. It’s _him._ He’s Billy fucking Hargrove. Bad rep, loves getting drunk, the new King and…

_Not friends with Harrington._

He opens his eyes and looks at Harrington coldly, ignoring the small part of him screaming that it’s over, it’s done, they’re _friends_ now and Harrington doesn’t deserve it.

“Billy?” Harrington asks, concerned.

“I’ve got a new favor,” his voice comes out low and smooth. Devious and threatening. Just like it should be.

Harrington clearly stiffens, goes pale. “Get on with it.” He speaks in a similar low tone, and Billy feels almost offended by how immediately he’s gone back to hating him.

When Billy opens his mouth to speak, willing some words to come out like _eat breakfast every morning_ or _hug your mom next time,_ he looks and sees Tommy H. and Carol looking from across the hall expectantly and instead something completely different spills out.

“Tammy hasn’t stopped looking at you.”

Harrington’s eyes widen.

_“Expose her.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel that was a bit soft at the hospital but i couldn't help myself!! i'm sorry if it doesn't feel as consistent but i did my best
> 
> i reached my personal word goal (5k words) and decided to stop myself there, as i didn't want the chapters to go on for too long even if i was getting sO IMMERSED HVDFDSAJ
> 
> tumblr - nancywrote! thank you for reading!!


	3. Uh oh, Feelings!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party ensues, and Billy gets a little hot and bothered after.

Soft, pink lips spread to reveal sharp, pearly white teeth and a strawberry tongue darts out to run along them in a charming grin.

The song playing over the party is muffled as the deep ocean eyes bore into the glazed over ones of some girl with frizzy hair. She keeps talking, rambling without wasting a breath but he can tell she’s not trying to cover up the way her eyes travel to his lips.

“So,” Billy cuts her off, voice deep and laced with devious intent, she closes her mouth immediately and swallows lustfully, “you got a boyfriend?”

The girl giggles in a way she thinks matches his level of seductivity but it just comes out bland to him, “No, there’s always a free spot.”

Billy hums and nods, looks off into the colorfully-lit party and watches Harrington dancing with Wheeler distastefully.

“For Harrington?” Billy states suddenly mockingly, looking back at her with a grin that’s more knowing now. She visibly tenses, looks at him scared.

“You know?”

“Just noticed.” His lie comes out smoothly, and Tammy Thompson looks around as though somebody’s listening in. She leans in and drops her voice to a whisper.

“Does he hate me?” She asks as though she doesn’t already know the answer.

_ Perfect. _

He glances over to Harrington to find the boy looking at him, still dancing, and his grin widens into that of a Cheshire’s. He holds his stare, places a hand on Thompson’s waist.

“Dunno,” he looks back at her, knowing full well now that Harrington won’t be able to pry his eyes away, “but maybe if he sees you and I together, he’ll get a little jealous.” He leans in until their noses are practically touching.

He knows she can’t resist it, not with the way he flutters his long eyelashes and licks his lips. “He’s looking?” Thompson asks.

Billy nods, and then she leans in to meet him halfway.

But then Billy’s pushed back, and a body wedges itself between him and Thompson. His heart gets a little rowdy but he ignores it in favor of his plan.

“Steve!” Thompson breathes dreamily, as though he’s here for her.

Harrington looks at her concerned and pitifully, then back at Billy angrily. Billy regards him with an expectant look.

“Uh, actually, I’m here for Billy. He’s my ride tonight,” Harrington’s clearly leaning into Billy’s space a little more, and he grins knowing the brunette’s uncomfortable with the frizzy-haired girl. She visibly disheartens, terrified.

She jumps to defend, “Oh--” “Sorry, Tams, Tommy’s drunk. I better get to him. Let’s go, Stevie,” Billy purrs and puts his hand on the small of Harrington’s back, dragging him away from the scared girl smugly.

Harrington slaps Billy’s hand off of him once they’re far enough from the crowd and her and pushes him against the wall, hand on his chest “What was that all about?” Harrington asks just out of ear-shot of some drunk, passed-out teen near them.

“You didn’t do your end of the deal. Just wanted to have some fun, baby,” Billy jokes, licking his lips at the closeness.

Harrington’s hot breath is brushing his nose, it smells like cherries and  _ God  _ Billy wants to swallow it up. Or maybe he’s just drunk?

Obviously, he’s just drunk. There’s no way he’d want Harrington on him.

He can’t deny his excitement at being pushed to the wall though.

Harrington growls, “With  _ her?”  _ and for a moment Billy’s convinced Harrington wanted Billy to have fun with  _ him  _ instead.

“Specifically?” Harrington adds, biting his bottom lip. Billy’s eyes travel down to stare at those plush, pinky lips dragged by those pearly whites.

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” Billy’s voice drops again, to his little husky and seductive tone that he was using on Thompson previously. Clearly, Harrington’s a little affected by it by the way he leans in a little more to the point of their foreheads touching. It makes Billy’s breath catch in his throat, all the cocky words he wants to say washed away by impure ones that would surely suggest something  _ very  _ bad for the both of them.

Harrington closes his eyes, sighs and his lips are so  _ close,  _ “I don’t want to hurt her,” he says.

Billy kind of wants to reach out, hug him and say something comforting all of the sudden. But he’s too caught up in Harrington’s fist gripping his shirt and the way their foreheads are pressed against each other and how he probably smells like  _ shit  _ right now.

“I don’t care,” he snarls. “Tommy’s running around with that stupid mic in the crowd, playing karaoke and asking questions. There’s a perfect opportunity. She deserves it.”

“She wants to be a singer,” Harrington reminisces sadly, “she’s always loved music.”

Billy shoves Harrington off him and nearly wakes the drunk guy near him. “Get the fuck in there, Harrington, and stop messing around. It’s either  _ you  _ take the mic, or  _ me.” _

And then Harrington chokes, his expression hardens and it’s so  _ clear  _ in this moment how much he fucking  _ despises  _ Billy and that’s all he needs.

He swings his fist and lets it collide with Harrington’s jaw spitefully.

Harrington hits the staircase’s railings behind him, raises his arms in defense and Billy can already notice the reluctance to fight. “What’s wrong, huh? Too much of a pussy?” He spits above Harrington, cracks his knuckles. Ignores the fact that he softened the blow too much, that Harrington wouldn’t even get a nice and solid bruising from it.

Harrington scoffs and stands up, “Weak punch, asshole. I’ll do it. Just..” he sighs, straightens his back, then locks eyes with Billy disgustingly and angrily,  _ “Leave me alone after this,  _ okay?”

Billy stiffens. His heart drops to his stomach and he doesn’t know why that affects him so much, and he looks to the ground, trying not to show the way his face has gotten redder and his eyes have gotten glassier.  _ “Fine,”  _ he agrees, “now get lost.”

He doesn’t even have to look up to know Harrington’s left to find Tommy.

Hates the way he can feel something wet threatening to run down his cheek.

So, reluctantly, he goes upstairs to the guest bedroom and locks himself in. Curls up in a corner and grips his hair tightly, claws at his scalp like a fucking  _ maniac. _

_ I’m a fucking idiot. _

_ I fucked up. _

But, shit, why should he  _ care? _

When he hears Harrington’s voice instead of Tommy’s now, coming from the mic and echoing throughout the house just barely over the music, he gets up and takes off his leather jacket before leaving the room and heading to the main room where everybody’s gathered.

There, Harrington’s right next to Tommy H. looking stern as all hell, staring down somebody in the crowd and visibly tense. Billy leans on the doorframe and crosses his arms, waiting. It doesn’t matter, he convinces himself. They’re not friends. They’re  _ enemies. _

_ “I’m a little drunk, but,”  _ Harrington starts, a little slurred and Billy realizes that he’d been downing some shots before taking the mic from Tommy, because he was definitely sober when he was talking to Billy,  _ “I’ve got somethin’ to say.” _

Tommy’s arm is wrapped around Harrington’s shoulders, and Billy fights the urge to storm over and push Tommy off. Just waits, stares, and listens.

The crowd cheers at the former-King, because anything they can use against him, they gladly will. They just love gossip.

Billy’s vision is getting a bit blurry, and he ignores how fucked-out his mind’s starting to get. It doesn’t matter, he’s just a little bit drunk. He does kind of feel bile rising in his throat, though.

_ “There’s some chick here, who just  _ follows  _ me everywhere-- it fuckin’ freaks me out, man. Sorry.” _

When Billy gives another scan of the room, he can see Tammy Thompson’s hair but not her face, much to his disappointment. But near Tommy is Carol, visibly grinning and excited.

_ “Shit, Tammy Thompson, you gotta stop? I asked you once. Seriously. It’s kiiinda creepy, dude,”  _ Harrington nearly falls over but Tommy keeps him upright, and then the crowd bursts into a near-harmony of  _ oohs  _ at this. Carol steps forward and takes the mic while Harrington’s looking close to throwing up, and she points at someone in the crowd.

“There she is! Fucking freak,” she announces, laughing at the girl. The whole crowd’s laughing now, and Billy sees Thompson run out the crowd with everyone staring at her and she’s visibly red-faced and snot’s running down her nose. She’s  _ crying. _

He honestly is really about to throw up right now.

She runs past him and presumably away from the party, and the crowd just keeps laughing and booing her even when she’s gone. Billy just keeps there, arms crossed, leather jacket tied around his waist and chest slick with sweat and honestly, probably vomit soon. The fuzzy gray spots dancing in his vision are starting to close in.

Harrington looks up and catches Billy’s eyes angrily, and Billy tenses. He gags, and Harrington’s look of anger immediately switches to concern. Billy snorts stupidly and closes his eyes, bracing himself for something. Like a shout, like being called out, or being  _ pushed. _

Then he blacks out.

  
  


It’s dark, the moonlight shining in through the gaps of the blinds and casting a cool blue light over the sheets. The door’s left open just slightly, leather jacket slung over a vanity and shoes seemingly thrown off by the closet.

Billy shuffles and opens his eyes, head hurting like shit. He sits up and finds he’s still wearing leather pants and the sheets stick to him far too uncomfortably. He peels them off and when he tries to plant his feet on the ground to get up, he ends up just falling back onto the bed face-first.

He groans into the mattress and runs his hands through his messy, tangled hair.

A knock at the doorway grabs his attention and he finds Max standing there with water and tablets in her hands, possibly from Neil’s bathroom.

Billy just stays there, knees on the floor and his arms slung over the mattress, head thrumming like shit as she walks over nervously.

“Steve drove your Camaro,” she says simply when Billy snatches the water and tablets out of her hands, taking the tablets as quickly as possible then chugging the water down his dry throat. It doesn’t ease the pain that much, his head still fucking hurts, but he’s starting to wake up.

He takes a moment to process her words as he’s drinking the water, and damn-near chokes.

“What?” He says, voice raspy and hurting his throat. Max crosses her arms tiredly and points at the keys by his bedside table.

“He said you passed out, and I helped him carry you into your bedroom. I didn’t know you two were close.”

_ Close. _

Billy scoffs, gets up and hands the glass back to Max. “We aren’t.”

Max shrugs, “I mean, whatever. None of my business, I guess. He seemed really freaked out though.”

Suddenly, Billy tenses and nearly falls back over, “Wait, how’d he get home?”

“Jonathan picked him up with his car. They’re having a sleepover with Nancy.”

Billy nods, relieved, “So Harrington drove me here drunk?”

“Less drunk than you.”

_ Alright. Fair. _

Billy sits back on his bed and leans against the pillows, looking at the ceiling. “Thanks.”

Max just sighs, rolls her eyes and leaves the room with a mumbled  _ goodnight. _

“Good night,” Billy whispers back and keeps staring at the ceiling.

He can’t shower, because Neil will hear. It’s the weekends, thankfully, so he has plenty of time to do whatever anyways. Just as long as Neil doesn’t wake up.

Groggily rubbing his eyes, Billy gets up and starts kicking his jeans off and throws them in his closet with his jacket. He leaves his room to navigate to the bathroom and washes his face with cold water, dampening his hair as well and drying it off quickly.

With a look in the mirror, he finds he’s still sweating like hell but he also looks like  _ shit. _

_ I fucked up. _

That’s all his mind says, but he doesn’t really remember how. He just vaguely recalls Harrington’s hurt expression, can remember Thompson running past him and can feel Harrington’s forehead against his. That’s all. Also Tommy H. screaming into his ear at the beginning of the party like music was playing, when there was  _ nothing fucking playing. _

He groans angrily at himself and nearly punches the mirror, but instead just places his hand on it and looks down. Presses his forehead against the mirror, but it’s far too cold to be like Harrington’s. And it’s just…  _ not  _ Harrington.

_ I’m a fucking mess. _

Tiredly, Billy drags his feet back to his room and flops onto his bed. He rolls over to his back and doesn’t try to tuck himself under his sheets, because they’re already sticky with sweat and he’s not up to deal with that.

Despite how out of it he feels, he can’t bring himself to sleep.

His mind keeps drifting back to the feeling of Harrington’s forehead on his, and it’s driving him fucking crazy. His mind keeps trying to unwrap that memory, figure out what happened. If  _ something  _ happened. It hurts his head.

But then he finally breaks the barrier and can recall Harrington pushing him against the wall, fingers gripping his zipped leather jacket. Doesn’t even know why he had his jacket zipped up to begin with, probably to avoid throwing up on his body if he didn’t wanna shower.

All the blood that should be coming to his face rush down south instead.

He shifts in his bed, opens his eyes reluctantly to look at the door. It’s closed, locked and nobody can get in. Nobody ever comes in. It’s well past midnight.

Gently, teasingly, he runs his fingers down his neck and chest and past his abs, stopping at the hem of his briefs. He just plays with it for a bit, tugs it up a little then releases to feel it snap on his hip bone.

It airs out all the sweat, but he’s already getting so hot. He keeps his other hand busy with his hair, tangled in his locks and pretending it’s someone else’s long, slender fingers gripping his hair instead.

He thinks about Harrington, how he pushed him against the wall so harshly and how he smelled like.. like  _ fucking cherries.  _ He licks his lips and then a beautiful new memory comes to light, urging him to pull his briefs down as soon as possible.

_ Harrington, biting his pretty pink lips with his eyes closed. _

Billy nearly fucking  _ growls  _ at the image, feels something getting harder by the second, pressing against the cotton and pulls his briefs down to his knees. His dick stands at full mass, twitching for attention.

_ “What was that all about?” _

His voice was so smooth, deep and sweet and he was so  _ close  _ to Billy’s lips.

Billy breathes out shakily, wraps his fingers around his dick and pumps once, untangles his other hand from his hair to bite down on his thumb and muffle his fucking moan. He’s  _ pathetic, needy,  _ and Jesus Christ hard as all fucking hell.

Harrington was just so  _ good.  _ His hair was messy in the right kind of way, falling over his face and showing off a few loose curls to the point of nearly poking his eye out, tousled in a kind of..  _ sexed-out  _ way. Another pump, and he’s already whimpering.

Pre’s already beading at the tip, and Billy raises his thumb to brush his slit, thinking about how he’s telling Harrington to do all this shit for him but  _ Jesus  _ if Harrington wanted anything from him, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Imagines how Harrington would order him to get on his knees with that kind of voice, or how Harrington would fuck him so hard that he’d be smelling like cherries the next day.

Billy bites harder down into his hand, enough to mark, and he imagines it’s Harrington marking him instead as he starts pumping his wet dick, whimpering around his hand weakly.

_ Harrington’s fucking growl. _

It echoes in Billy’s ear and his hips leave the bed, following the pumps of his hand desperately because it feels so fucking  _ good  _ and he can’t stop thinking about the way Harrington would  _ growl  _ possessively over him, maybe wrap his plump pink lips around the head of his dick and let his pretty white teeth graze the tip.

With that thought, Billy’s nails press a little into his tip, and he hisses longingly, chasing his release with shuddering breaths and quick hip thrusts into his warm hand.

Harrington would have long, thin but so well-controlled fingers, tugging his dick and whispering all kinds of dirty things into Billy’s ears. His hot breath would cancel out any and all thoughts, all Billy would be is fucking  _ mush  _ in his hands and he  _ cries  _ into his hand, pumping his dick as fast as possible and moaning out  _ Steve’s  _ name.

He lets his hand leave his mouth and watches the trail of saliva as he removes it, licks it up quick and nearly fucking comes right then and there at the sight and feeling.

_ “Mhh, fuck, Steve --”  _ he moans weakly, grateful that everyone should be asleep and that he doesn’t have to hold back his sounds too much. His now-free hand comes near his pec and then a finger raises to circle his sensitive budding nipple.

His hips twitch, and his hand starts furiously rubbing his dick to the point that he’s shaking the whole fucking  _ bed.  _ His mouth is left open, moans and shaky breathing almost-unfiltered and his back’s arched off the bed, legs shaking with every pump on his dick.

He squeezes around his dick right before release just to let it edge a little longer, and feels tears running down his cheeks.  _ “Please,  _ Steve,” he begs to nobody.

Once more, his mind runs back to the image of Steve biting his lips, and his hips seize in the air as he lets out a great, high-pitched and shaky moan alongside the white that splashes out his and splatters onto his stomach, leaving his hips stuttering and his breath heaving.

The orgasm was fucking  _ grand,  _ it drags on for far longer than usual and his eyes roll back into his head with a neverending cry of  _ Steve  _ as his hips and whole body trembles with the weight of it.

Finally, his ass is back on the mattress and his dick’s softening, white covering his abdomen and sweat yet again staining the sheets behind him.

Billy sighs tiredly, pulls his briefs back up and grits his teeth when the cotton fabric brushes against his all-too-sensitive dick. As lazily as possible, he takes the roll of tissue from his drawer and rips a wad of tissue out to clean his stomach up with. He can shower in the morning.

Once he’s finished, he throws it into the trash can (and it thankfully lands) and rolls to his side, running his hands through his hair once more and tears drying on his cheeks.

His heart hurts, because now he remembers why he fucked up.

And  _ fuck,  _ he’s fucking himself up even more.

  
  


The next week, Billy can’t even bring himself to look at Harrington anymore.

Not just because of guilt, but shame. Shame that not only did he fucking jerk off to the brunette hard enough that he’s embarrassed anytime he thinks about him, but also shame that he  _ fucked up  _ so bad to the point that Harrington’s not even looking at him either.

Billy doesn’t bother to search for a familiar face once he’s parked, just gets straight in to class because Monday was shit and he’s sure Tuesday won’t be any different.

Nobody’s in class, of course. It’s English. They like to stall for time for as long as possible, nobody takes it that seriously. Billy sits at the far back, further from Harrington’s seat, and looks out the window boredly.

His ears perk up at the sound of footsteps and when he looks over, there’s the fucking bastard himself, walking into class on his own, books under his arm and a lollipop in his mouth.

Scoffing, he pointedly looks away and continues to fidget with his pencil.

But then the sounds of creaks fill his ears and he realizes that Harrington’s sitting  _ right fucking next to him. _

“Billy.”

He ignores it, hates the way his heart both goes crazy and drops to his stomach all at once. Hates how hurt he fucking feels, doesn’t like what it implies.

_ “Billy.” _

“Fuck do you want?” Billy snaps, looking at Harrington with such distaste he’s surprised the boy’s even  _ smiling  _ at him. Albeit awkwardly.

Harrington just tenses, mumbles a  _ sorry  _ for whatever reason then looks at his desk.

Billy’s nostrils flare and he continues looking out the window until the rest of the students flood into the classroom.

Finally, the teacher arrives and everybody’s quieted down and situated in their seats obediently. Thank God Carol’s not in Billy’s English class.

Then, the teacher says it’s time to check people’s homeworks off.

And Billy looks at Harrington, finds him tense as all hell and looking at his desk scared.

Billy looks back down at his own desk, and without thinking he grabs his homework and erases his name. Quickly slaps it softly on Harrington’s desk then leans back in his own chair to wait for the teacher to call his name.

Harrington looks over at Billy bewildered, “Billy, what the--”

“Steve Harrington?” the teacher calls.

Billy looks over at Harrington and mouths,  _ ‘mom’. _

Harrington’s brows furrow and he quickly signs the paper with his name instead, getting up to hand it to the teacher stiffly. It’s clear he feels awful, but Billy has the upper hand here.

When Harrington pulls his chair back to sit down, he immediately squiggles down a note on a ripped piece of paper and hands it to Billy as sneakily as possible.

_ ‘Thanks.’ _

Billy looks at him and smirks, shakes his head when the teacher calls him up and just asks for an extension. She agrees, of course, because Billy’s always the best at English and if he for some reason can’t turn it in on time, then  _ surely  _ something’s going on at home that he needs to deal with himself. The benefits of being a straight-A student in at least one class.

After class, Billy tails right out and tries to find Tommy.

Harrington can’t find him, he makes sure of it.

Tommy’s snickering with Carol by the gym, making out. Billy just walks right by them and leans against the wall near Carol and waits.

Finally, they pull apart and look at Billy. Tommy grins, “Tammy still isn’t showing up. We’ve fucked her up once and for all.”

Billy nods, kind of disappointed. Not at all satisfied or happy. “Still hate Steve?”

Carol scoffs, offended, “Of course! He still fucks with that slut Wheeler.”

“She has a boyfriend,” Billy says. He doesn’t like how Carol speaks about Harrington.

“Threesomes, dude, ever had one?” Tommy says, wraps his arm around Carol mischievously. Carol just giggles and Billy nearly gags, “No thanks.”

Tommy just shrugs and nods, “Whatever, man. Your loss.”

“Anyways!” Carol huffs, proud, “Tommy and I are skipping school early, we’re gonna go to an ice cream store. Wanna join?” It’s kind of cute, Billy thinks, that even though Carol’s no different from a slut herself and even though Tommy’s an annoying little shit, they still do so much together and are so open and comfortable with each other that they can include others in their usually solo dates. Make it a friend hang out and stuff.

But he’s kind of missing Harrington’s hair, and he’s worried about what the students will do or say because yesterday a lot of kids skipped still recovering from the intense party last week, and Billy’s not up to find Harrington with a new broken nose tomorrow.

“I’ll pass. Thanks,” he says. Carol and Tommy just fist bump because  _ more private time for them! yay!  _ and Tommy waves, “See ya, then. Good luck.’

Then they stride off together and Billy stays by the gym doors, trying to relax. On the wall opposite to him is a poster for the stupid Hawkins High prom. It’s pretty far from now, a few months late at best, but Billy finds himself reminiscing.

When Max had a small little dance at her primary school, no boy wanted to dance with her because they were scared. Susan was looking sad and Neil was gonna force Max to leave early, until Billy came up to her and offered his hand.

It was a rare moment between them. They danced awfully, and some kids didn’t know Billy was Max’s brother and got a little jealous but also even more scared by his presence. He was young, maybe thirteen or fourteen, but he was starting to grow out his hair and he definitely wasn’t  _ muscular  _ but he was tall for his age.

And, of course, he was older than most of the kids there, and he got away with them believing he was some secret kid at their school that probably knew about all the gossip and shit and could fuck anyone up at any point. Typical childish thinking.

They definitely didn’t win any crowns, but Max was so happy she stuck her tongue out at her crush and told Billy her crush was mean anyways.

_ I guess it’s only natural I’d turn out to be protective. _

Grimly, he looks down and thinks that he’ll likely be able to dance with any woman he wants to at prom. But he doesn’t  _ want  _ to just dance with any woman. He wants to dance with somebody who he can enjoy himself with, not somebody he has to pretend to be someone else with. The way everyone else can, ‘cause they’re all so in love or whatever.

Love always made no sense to him.

He sighs, straightens himself when the bell rings and wastes no time in getting into the gym locker room to change. It doesn’t matter, because love’s the least of his concerns anyways. He just can’t see himself with anyone for the rest of his life, he can’t see himself with  _ anyone. _

Then he opens his eyes while sitting on the bench and raises it to find Harrington not too far from him, changing shirts with the other guys in the room.

_ Love never made any sense to him. _

“Nice speech, didn’t know you still had it in you,” some guy laughs while slapping Harrington’s back, and Billy clenches his fist in reflex, tries not to jump up to punch the asshole.

“I’m sorry?” Harrington says, confused.

The other guys share a snicker, and all of their attention’s on Harrington and Billy wants to break his knee or something to get their eyes off the brunette.

“The party, man. Were you that drunk? Thompson’s totally fucking moving, bro.”

Harrington clearly tenses up, “I- I didn’t mean to--”

Billy hates the way he’s jumping to defend himself and he immediately sits up, slamming his own locker closed and getting everyone else’s attention, including Harrington’s.

“What?” He says, glaring at everybody. Scaring them into silence. “Fuck you looking at?”

They all immediately lower their heads, continue getting changed in silence. Everyone but Harrington, who’s looking at Billy with the fondest smile it almost pisses him off. And, it kind of does.

But his eyes feel soft and cotton-like, and he feels like he’s floating under that gaze. So he looks away, still feeling those brown eyes like lasers focusing on the back of his head while he waits for everyone to finish changing. It’s not that he can’t go out into the gymnasium, it’s that if he does, he leaves them alone with Harrington.

So, no, he won’t leave, he’d rather just keep waiting.

Basketball flies by pretty fast.

When Billy’s finished running out the showers, because he’s afraid of looking at Harrington and he’s getting a little hard just  _ thinking  _ of it, he slips into his clothes pretty easily and chooses to tie his hair up with the hair tie Max let him keep.

“You’ve got big ears,” Harrington says besides him, leaning against the locker.

Billy almost jumps, but he keeps his cool. “Yeah.” He prays that Harrington won’t see how red the tips of his ears are, and if he does, hopefully he assumes it’s just from the showers.

“I’m sorry.”

Billy closes his locker, a lot gentler this time, and looks at Harrington. “For what?” He wants to hear it.

“What I said at the party. I didn’t mean it.” Harrington stands straight and he looks genuinely  _ worried. _

Billy shrugs, “Sure you didn’t.”

“I didn’t!” Harrington whisper-yells, clearly frustrated now. “I really didn’t.”

“What didn’t you mean, exactly?” Billy’s just.. curious. That’s all. He doesn’t care. Even if his heart’s just stopped, even if his thoughts are running rampant with ideas and possibilities and  _ what ifs. _

“Billy…” Harrington breathes, nervous, but Billy just stares at him until he continues, “I don’t actually want you to leave me alone.”

It comes out in a low hum, a shy whisper, but Billy catches every syllable and he waits to answer.

Just a few seconds, enough for Harrington to slowly get more and more fearful.

“Cool.”

Harrington looks at him, confused. “Cool?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have listened either way.” It’s a lie, but Harrington’s shoulders seem to sag in relief. Also his cheeks seem to get pinker, and Billy can’t help but reach out to run his fingers through Harrington’s hair just to watch it flop back over his face.

Harrington smiles just as fondly and seems a little disappointed when Billy’s hand’s left.

“So, you free tonight?” Billy asks, leaning against his own locker.

Harrington’s eyes widen, “Uh- Billy, if this is for a date--”

“To study,” he clarifies. Barks out a laugh at how red Harrington got, swallows down the hurt at the possibility that Harrington would’ve turned it down if it  _ was  _ for a date.

“Oh!” Harrington giggles cutely, “Yeah. Whose?”

“Yours.” Obviously, not Billy’s house. That would  _ not  _ be good at all.

“Sure,” Harrington smiles and watches as the others leave the shower. He left right after Billy did, it seems. Billy can’t help the smile that comes over his face as well.

“Cool,” Billy says.

“Cool,” Harrington repeats.

Billy doesn’t fail to notice the way Harrington lingers for a bit before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. i'm SORRY IF THIS WAS SHORT I TRIED MY BEST I REACHED 5K WORDS THO I PROMISE I'LL TRY HRDER NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> thanky ou for reading!!


	4. ice cream and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll come apart and you'll go blind  
> Some kind of night into your darkness  
> Colors your eyes with what's not there"  
> (fade into you - mazzy star)

Billy isn’t very close with Max.

Their relationship is complicated, really.

From the moment he met her, he never was too fond of her up until Neil seemed too adamant on including her in his treatments and Billy found himself unable to stay away from her, to the point that Neil just accepted he’d be the big brother figure and forced him from then on to keep on keeping an eye on her.

Max never liked Billy, but Billy scared her. He knew that much. Then her first small dance came, and after Billy danced with her, she became less fearful of him and more just knowing when to bite her tongue. He’s got a little bit of a weak spot for her, treats her less harshly than he treats others, no roughhousing and all. He tries his hardest not to hurt her or lay a finger on her unless he really needs to get her away from things like Neil or people who seem too interested in her.

He honestly doesn’t know where he stands on his feelings towards her. He hates her, because her and Susan are reminders of what he’s lost, and they always insist on acting like family even when Billy just wants his mom back.

Some small part of him believes that maybe, if he keeps heart locked in a cage from that side of the family, his mom would come back to get him and he could teach her how to surf, or they could set up surprise birthday parties for each other again. This time, no longer in one room or closed-off spaces, just free from Neil’s watchful eye and no need to be hidden.

It’s all stupid hope. He knows that much.

But he can’t help himself. Knowing she’s still out there, maybe thinking of him, helps him to keep himself alive. It helps him break out of Neil’s rules for a bit, helps him breathe everyone’s lies with a grain of salt. Because they say she won’t come back.

But some small part of him screams at him that she will.

And Max and Susan are just budget replacements. They aren’t  _ real  _ family.

They don’t celebrate his birthday, they don’t sneak in little trinkets from travelling to make up for loss time, they don’t shield him from Neil’s yelling and beatings, they don’t tell him it’ll be okay and that they can go to the beach to cool off. They don’t do  _ shit. _

But when he wakes up, he still has to prepare breakfast for Max, he still has to listen to Susan’s absent minded panicky rambles about where she put her keys, he still washes the dishes and cleans the house and he still  _ drives Max to the fucking arcade.  _ He asks them for something, they do it in fear of him. A fucking  _ teen. _

Neil asks him something, he tries to break free and gets put in his place and does it inevitably because he’s fucking  _ forced  _ to. Because  _ he’s _ scared of his  _ dad.  _ A man who has so much shit over him.

And today is no different.

Billy had a nice night last night, he was with Steve helping him study and they got drunk and it’s all a blur after that. But Neil felt his hangover from a mile away when they woke up in the morning, because Billy overslept. Because Billy woke at  _ seven fucking thirty.  _ And Max, none the wiser, woke up at fifteen past but went back to sleep.

So after school, Billy has to drive Max to the arcade without complaint.

With bruised ribs.

“You know, you don’t have to accompany me in. You can just drive off and do whatever like usual,” Max says gently. Her voice is strained, she’s obviously a little distressed after witnessing Billy get fucking  _ beat  _ in front of her. Usually Neil holds back around her.

Billy scoffs, “Doesn’t matter. He’ll know. Always does.” His voice comes out far more broken than he’d like.

“How would he?”

Billy unbuckles his belt, the jeans were pressing too hard, and unlocks the doors. “He just does.”

He doesn’t have to know  _ how.  _ Neil always knows, Billy’s beyond asking  _ how. _

Max gets out the car and Billy follows behind her, hands in his pockets and head bowed. Not at all confident or caring, just completely blank.

She looks at him for a moment before entering the arcade, brows furrowed.

The other kids, like usual, greet Max happily. Billy doesn’t even feel jealous this time, just relieved that she’s got people by her side. Relieved that, by the sound of it, they’re not  _ fake  _ friends.

Billy leans up against some broken down machine not too far from Max and her friends, crosses his arms and keeps his head low, biting his lips.

_ Happy thoughts. _

Instead of thinking of his dad, he tries to recall last night.

He knocked on the door that night and Steve answered in the cutest astronaut pajamas he’d ever seen. Steve looked so sweet, hair completely ungelled but still looking so soft and pretty, his cheeks were pink and he was so much more giggly. Billy felt just so  _ serene. _

Lost in the apples of Steve’s cheeks, drawn in by his pretty laugh and drowning in the attention. It was overwhelming, and all at once Billy couldn’t stop thinking about what love really was that night.

He still doesn’t know, but if love was a person, it’d be  _ Steve. _

Always seeing the good in people, always so smiley and Billy never fails to notice that Tommy H. still misses him. Of course he does. Billy would too.

And just like Billy, Steve’s mom can’t come home.

But, at least Steve can see her. Billy’s so happy he can see her.

Last night, they were just doing English homework together. Billy caught up on the homework he gave Steve in class while Steve was trying to understand the new material they were given after. In the end they worked it out together and to celebrate, they drank.

All he can remember after that is incredibly vague. A very light sketch around the events, just a silhouette of what might’ve happened.

He can remember Steve’s forehead against his again, he can recall the alcohol lacing his breath. But that’s all.

Maybe, something else happened. Because he feels like he should remember  _ more.  _ He definitely didn’t drink as much as Steve.

“You look grim.”

A smile rises to his face without even looking up, immediately his mood’s lifted up. But his ribs still ache.

He raises his head to lock eyes with the main focus of his happy place, and doesn’t even bother trying to defend himself or lie. “Been better.”

Steve sighs, lets his own smile drop and leans against the machine besides Billy, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Ribs ache, is all,” Billy says. He leans back against the machine to get a little more into Steve’s space and he smells the faint scent of roses.

“Alright, sure.” Steve doesn’t believe it, clearly, but Billy doesn’t need him to.

The brunette tosses his hair out of his eyes and bumps shoulders with Billy, “Thanks for last night, by the way.”

Billy’s smile couldn’t get any wider, “Yeah? Can barely remember a thing.”

Steve chuckles nervously and looks off, “I remember too well. Sorry.”

Billy’s brows furrow, “Hey,” he calls softly, and Steve looks at him concerned, “what happened?”

Steve just shrugs and rubs his arm, then leans a little more into Billy’s space until their arms are fully touching and his head is almost on his shoulder, “I did.”

The sounds of games fill the air, kids cheering and teens joking, and Billy just goes silent in thought. He hums after a moment, lifts his arm to pull Steve closer to him and keep his arm there. It hurts his ribs, but he doesn’t mind.

“It’s okay,” he says. Steve just smiles and lets his nose nuzzle Billy’s shoulder.

And the feeling of Steve near him helps put his memories together bit by bit. His words help him piece together things, ever so slightly.

Because Billy can remember hugging a crying Steve. And he doesn’t know what he said, but he’s pretty sure Steve was talking about his mom. It all hurts to remember.

They stay there, leaning into each other’s touch for a few minutes and Billy’s almost convinced Steve’s asleep until he hears the boy giggle into his neck.

“What?” Billy raises a brow, squeezes Steve’s waist to push an answer out of him.

“Nothing, nothing,” Steve keeps giggling and rubs his face deeper into Billy’s neck, “last night was just fun, is all.”

Billy groans and lets his thumb rub against the hem of Steve’s jeans. “Steeeve,” he begs.

“Fine! Okay, okay,” Steve laughs and lifts his face from Billy’s neck, raising his arm to play with Billy’s curls while smiling so beautifully, “you called me cute so many times last night.”

Billy’s heart races even more, nearly leaps out of his chest, “Did I?” he chokes.

Steve nods, grinning, “Mhm. Then you said my hair was like a sundae.” He twirls one of Billy’s curls in his index, lets it go to watch it spring and brushes through it admiringly. They’re both so close, Steve’s nose is just inches away from Billy’s.

“A sundae?” Billy laughs. His heart’s just filling, and he can feel his whole body melt under Steve’s tender touch.

Steve just keeps playing with Billy’s hair while listening to his laugh, and leans in just that bit closer. “Hey,” he whispers.

Billy’s breathing stops, but he keeps his gaze, shoulders stiff as ever, “Hey,” he says back.

And then Steve’s leaning in and his lips are  _ so close to Billy’s  _ and he closes his eyes waiting for some wonderful feeling.

Of course, it’s too soon, because suddenly a shout comes from behind Steve and they both snap away from each other to look that way and they find Max storming out the arcade with Lucas shouting after her.

“Shoot,” Steve mutters, almost angrily but mostly scared.

Billy doesn’t listen, silences his really loud heart and pushes himself away from Steve because  _ Jesus fucking Christ  _ he doesn’t know what he was gonna do but he doesn’t want to.

Instead, he runs out to tail after Max without thinking.

She’s stomping over to the Camaro but there’s a guy walking towards her and before Billy can say anything, the guy’s grabbing Max and covering her mouth.

Billy’s heart goes fucking  _ wild  _ and all the adrenaline kicks in as he yells out the most aggressive fucking  _ hey, asshole  _ before grabbing the guy by the beanie and forcing him off Max. The man elbows him in the rib and his brain can’t filter the hiss that escapes his lips.

Max bites down on the creep’s hand and screams once she’s free, runs off to the other side of the Camaro because Billy’s told her time and time before that she should stay  _ away  _ from danger and let him do the fighting instead.

He’s so grateful she listened, because he’s knocking the guy’s head on the edge of his Camaro and kicking him into the floor with rage boiling deep in him.

“Billy! Stop!” Max cries, but doesn’t come too close.

When he looks up, the kids are by the door with Steve right near them staring at Billy terrified.

He snarls painfully, “Get in the car, Max.”

She obeys and the moment he hears her door close, he gives one final kick at the poor guy and spits on him. “Pig,” he growls and gets into his Camaro then drives off without any further thought.

“What the fuck happened?” He shouts when they’re on the street, white-knuckled and pissed to hell, “Why the  _ fuck  _ did you leave the arcade without telling me?”

“I was angry,” Max mutters, shaky.

“That’s no fuckin’ excuse, Max, if I hadn’t gone out there-- he coulda--” Billy tries to take a deep inhale, tries calming himself but it’s no use because he can feel his legs bouncing and his fingers shaking with all the rage flowing through him.

“I’m sorry,” Max breathes far too weakly.

When Billy looks at her, he finds her crying.

And that’s all he needs to stop on the side of the street with his grip loosening on the wheel.

That’s all he needs to pull her into a sudden hug and crush her with his arms. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” he says, voice cracked and muffled by her sweater.

Max just breaks into a full sob into his jacket, clutching onto Billy for dear life and repeating  _ I’m sorry  _ over and over again and all Billy can feel is his heart  _ shatter. _

He’s never really hugged her before, but he’s never felt so fucking  _ terrified  _ before, not even with Neil. He could’ve  _ lost  _ her.

It’s not that he could’ve been in serious trouble if he did.

It’s that he could’ve lost  _ Max. _

_ His sister. _

They hug for a few minutes, and all Billy does is hug her tighter and tighter until she’s finally starting to calm down. “Let’s get some ice cream, okay?” he weakly says, pulling back and reaching under his seat to grab a tissue box for her.

She takes it gratefully and starts blowing her nose and rubbing her eyes desperately. “Okay,” she agrees.

Billy keeps one hand on her knee, rubbing it comfortingly as he begins driving again to the closest ice cream store. He tries not to hug her again as she hiccups next to him, he just focuses on  _ ice cream. _

When they get there, an old lady working the front counter gives a little extra on the house and Billy introduces him and Max as  _ siblings.  _ Doesn’t say step, and feels relief when Max doesn’t correct.

And on the way home, Max falls asleep and Billy carries her to her room.

  
  


_ They nearly kissed. _

Billy wakes up past midnight in a cold sweat. He doesn’t bother stretching, only sits up in bed and hugs himself when he remembers.

Steve and him, drunk, celebrating the completion of homework and studying, and then touching noses and entangling fingers in each other’s hair and the stupid shit they said to each other.

_ “I always thought you were pretty,”  _ Billy had slurred and he cringes just thinking about it.

_ “I didn’t think much of you ‘til I couldn’t get you off my mind,”  _ Steve had giggled and it all just clouds Billy’s mind.

They were so close, at the arcade and  _ most definitely  _ that night because their lips were just a hair's width away until Steve pulled back to start drinking more.

Billy nearly chokes, embarrassed, and curls up under his sheets.

_ I don’t like him. _

_ I hate him. _

But all that’s thrown out the window when he just remembers the way Steve cries. So fragile in his arms and needing of protection and  _ someone. _

He feels like he’s floating, or running over water into the sunshine like he’s surfing -- the waves caressing his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling of giddiness just drowning him.

_ Fuck. _

That night, he most definitely let loose with the drinks and through it all let himself  _ think. _

About  _ Steve. _

And now, he can’t stop. He’s not sure he wants to, as terrifying as it is.

_ I like him. _

That thought makes him jolt up and run to the bathroom to wash his face, makes him curl up in the corner of his bedroom and insult himself over and over again because there’s just  _ no way. _

All he can do is cry.

Because he’s never let himself love before and he’s scared to.

  
  


Nancy Wheeler’s one hell of a girl to deal with.

Billy doesn’t really hate her anymore, he’s a bit spiteful of her ‘cause she dated Harrington and is one of his best friends, but that’s mostly jealousy. Even if she’s picked on him in the past in a pathetic effort to get him away from Steve.

But she’s very firm and knows what she wants. She doesn’t put up with sexism, which Billy can respect, and even though a lot of the students at school give her shit and all that, she still pulls through and ignores it all. It’s pretty impressive to Billy, almost admirable.

But he refuses to give her light of day, since she kind of fucking hurt Steve. He doesn’t know why she’d leave Steve, even if he feels a bit cocky that now Steve’s free.

Still, a little odd and kind of amusing when he finds her waiting by his locker with crossed arms and Byers by her side.

He plays coy, pretends he hasn’t noticed her and just opens his locker to put his stuff back. Closes it then gasps stupidly when he sees her, “Nancy! Good to see you!” he smiles all fake-like.

She’s not amused, obviously, and neither is Jonathan but Billy stands his ground.

“What are you doing?” Wheeler asks.

“What do you mean?” Billy asks right back, putting his padlock back on his locker boredly. He leans against it and looks between Wheeler and her boyfriend.

“Steve won’t stop talking about you,” she states.

Of  _ course,  _ his heart picks up and he has to stop himself from asking what Steve says about him, and instead he crosses his arms smugly, “Cute.”

“Look man, we just wanna know what you want with him,” Byers finally speaks up.

_ At least somebody’s getting to the point. _

He looks around and shrugs, “Nothing, we’re just friends.”

“Yeah, good friends apparently. Don’t you hate him?” Wheeler says.

“Not anymore,” Billy grins.

They both don’t seem to believe it, but Byers  _ does  _ raise his brow curiously, “Not anymore?”

“Yeah, I like him now. That hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually.” Wheeler looks around as well, as though people are listening in. “What’s in it for you?”

“His smile.”

Byers cringes, and shakes his head, “Yeah, no, thanks.”

The whole conversation bothers Billy, because he doesn’t want to deal with the two and doesn’t want to be on bad terms with some of Steve’s best friends. He doesn’t want to be seen as the asshole by  _ them  _ as well, it’s so fucking tiring.

“If I meant anything bad, I’d have done something by now,” Billy starts, “I’m not patient enough for the long-con.”

“Sure you are,” Byers jokes in a stupid voice, and Wheeler slaps him on the back with a failed hidden giggle.

“Alright, fine, whatever. But if you hurt him…”

“I won’t.”

Wheeler narrows her eyes, “You better not.” And then she grabs Byers and walks off.

That got on his nerves, but he held himself back. Thank fuck. Instead of bothering to think over it, he turns around and finds Carol and Tommy H. peering from around the corner across the hall.

They emerge and walk to him with a big grin.

“What’d she want?” Tommy snarls.

“We got anything on that slut?” Carol asks, sidling up to Tommy’s side with a little cat-face going on while waiting for an answer.

“You’re really one to talk,” Billy snaps and Tommy visibly tenses as Carol flinches.

“What’d you just call me?” Carol weakly pipes, trying to feign confidence but knowing Billy could fucking crush her if he wanted to.

“I called you,” he leans in and relishes in the way Tommy lets go of Carol fearfully, “a slut.”

He doesn’t know why he just suddenly put on the defense, but whoever’s on Steve’s side is on Billy’s side now and he’d much rather not be letting Carol go with being a little shit as per usual, let alone unjustifiably. Billy knows the story. Nancy’s not a complete fucking idiot like Perkins.

“Alright, hey man, she’s sorry. Leave her alone,” Tommy grits.

Billy huffs and pulls back, glares at the two and smiles devilishly. “Yeah, ‘course. Just jokin’ around.”

And then he shoves past Carol to get to the parking lot. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know they’re shaking, watching him stride off.  _ That  _ satisfies him.

At his car, he sees Steve running past a tree and practically screaming and Billy fucking  _ laughs. _

“What the fuck?” He mutters to himself, watching Steve with messy hair run away from an angry Max with the biggest smile plastered onto his face. He’s holding something.

Max doesn’t notice Billy, but Steve does and before Billy can react, Steve’s sliding behind him and hugging him from behind to protect himself from Max.

Billy can feel his eyes water, his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and he just places his hands over Steve’s as Max finally catches up shouting.

“Billy! He stole my fucking candy Miss gave me!”

“No I didn’t!” Steve shouts back, grinning with his chin propped on Billy’s shoulder. All Billy can think of is how easy it would be to just leave a little peck on Steve’s forehead, but he _ knows  _ he can’t. He  _ shouldn’t.  _ He shouldn’t even be thinking of it.

“Alright, alright, calm down. Steve, did you steal her hard-earned candy?” Billy says, toying with Steve’s fingers to try and pry them open.

“Nooo,” Steve drags out, pouting.

“He  _ so  _ did!” Max growls and tries clawing at Steve but Billy just moves over to block her attacks. Steve keeps giggling behind him.

“Steve, be honest,” Billy presses.

Finally, Steve groans and opens his hand to reveal the candy to Billy.

“Good boy, now give it back to Max.”

Steve lets go of Billy and holds his hand out reluctantly to hand the candy back to Max, but then he snatches it back at the last second to give Billy some puppy dog eyes.

“That won’t work on me.” Though Billy says that, it totally would and if Steve kept it on for longer, he’d have bought Steve candy himself even.

Max grabs the candy and cheers, “Thanks Billy!”

“And Max, calm down, don’t hurt him. Watch your language too.” Bad words, he realizes, because he’s a fighter and he’s definitely fought Steve before, but Max doesn’t seem to care as she unwraps the candy.

Before she can pop it in her mouth though, Billy swipes it out of her fingers and immediately tosses it into his mouth.

Both Steve and Max yell.

“Yummy! Tastes like strawberry,” Billy laughs while chewing and Steve just starts throwing hits at his shoulder while Max slaps his hip over and over again screaming stuff at him.

Through the yells, Billy can catch Steve saying  _ I taste like strawberry too  _ and almost immediately, he snaps his eyes to the brunette and finds himself unable to  _ not  _ lick his lips. Steve goes quiet at this, looks at him nervously with a parted mouth and Billy can see him swallow.

He grabs Max’s elbow, “Stop.” She obliges and  _ hmph _ s.

He keeps his eyes trained on Steve testingly and then narrows them, smiling, “Watch what you say. I’m very easy to tempt,” he whispers in a low voice.

Of course, when he grins, it’s all shark-teeth and threatening shines. But Steve just keeps looking, frozen in his spot.

“Uh, Billy, we heading home now? You owe me candy.” Max asks.

Billy lets go of her elbow and pushes Steve’s arms down from the air, nods at her with an all-too-innocent smile and clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course. Head on in, little lady.”

Max hums satisfied and skips around the car to get into her side, meanwhile Steve’s still there looking at Billy dumbfoundedly.

“Bill--”

“Seeya, lollipop,” Billy cuts him off with a wink and gets into the car, leaves Steve standing in an empty spot alone with all his thoughts and figures that if Steve gets the hint, he’ll stop talking to him.

Jesus, but that thought hurts him in a bitter kind of way.

Still, he keeps driving quietly.

“So, close with Steve?” Max asks innocently.

_ Uh. _

“Uh. You could say that, I guess.”

It’s really unclear to him how Steve feels in all of it. Steve seems so openly affectionate with all his friends, already constantly hugging Wheeler and Billy’s not  _ stupid, _ he’s seen Steve and Jonathan hug at least once so Steve definitely holds no boundaries.

But he really doesn’t know how Steve feels about  _ him.  _ The blackmailing thing kind of went off, it led Billy down a path he didn’t think he’d take and now he’s stuck hoping he has a chance in all of this when in reality he doesn’t even want to blackmail Steve anymore. He just wants to let that rope go somehow, see if Steve’ll stick with him then.

If he doesn’t, well.

At least they had their moments.

_ Jesus,  _ the thought of how Steve tastes isn’t gonna leave Billy’s mind anytime soon though.

And  _ lollipop? _

Billy cringes. He pulls up by his house and lets Max in through the front door first. His face is too red right now, he’s getting all hot and bothered already and he’s supposed to be sneaking out to accompany Steve to the hospital tonight. He won’t last a fucking second.

It’s getting too close though, they’re getting too close and Billy doesn’t want it. He’s scared of liking somebody, he’s terrified of getting attached again.

It’s like,  _ what if Neil hurts him? _

It’s a stupid thought. Obviously, a really stupid thought. Dumb in every way.

But all of Billy’s fears stem from his dad. And even if the logic outweighs those thoughts, Billy’s so quick to find any reason to keep far from Steve. Any reason to stop the feelings from getting too far.

He needs to make him do something. Again.

_ It’s just blackmail. _

_ It has to be bad. _

_ Has to be safe for him, but not for others. _

Billy grits his teeth, runs his hands through his hair stressfully and ignores Susan asking if he’s okay. Instead, he just gets up and storms into his room. He knows she pities him enough to not tell Neil.

_ Maybe, if it hurts him enough, he’ll avoid me and forget about me. _

The thought makes all of Billy ache. It makes his chest clench and honestly, he’s never felt heartbreak before but the thought of hurting Steve is enough to get him close to that.

He chooses to not show up for the hospital tonight. Neil’s on high alert because of last time, and Billy’s not up to get beat for somebody who probably doesn’t care about him the same. Better safe than sorry.

Of course.

One can imagine how fucking beat up Billy feels either way the next day when he’s walking down the corridor and he hears the words  _ dead mom  _ and  _ hospital  _ thrown around.

“Hey, Billy!”

And Carol comes up to him grinning.

“Did you hear about Steve?”

His blood runs cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahshbvdb this was shorter than my other chaps i'm sorry!! had to crank it out before my eyes fell down with the weight of my Sleeping Schedule but i did my best!! thank you for reading!


	5. Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all spreads. But Billy realizes he can protect Steve.

“Steve! I’m surprised you even showed,” Tommy smirks and smacks the brunette upside the head. All Steve does is flinch and slouch even more.

Billy storms through the bunch of students whispering and shoves Tommy away, “Watch it, asshole,” he hisses.

Tommy raises his arms angrily, “Jesus fucking Christ, dude! What’s your problem?”

He doesn’t listen, he doesn’t care, he just pushes himself in Tommy’s space and puffs out his chest to scare him away. It works, Tommy just flares his nostrils and runs off, but when Billy turns around, Steve’s already running off.

“Steve!” He shouts after him but ultimately his voice is drowned out by the crowd, and all he can do is throw himself into it to try and get through.

They’re all pressing against him, like usual, Billy usually prefers staying away from the larger crowds and he wouldn’t be lying if he wasn’t scared shitless being in the midst of it, hearing all the fucked up things people are saying.

_ “I wonder if he’s dying too?” _

_ “Always knew King Steve was a pussy.” _

_ “Bet he’s gonna start crying any moment now.” _

All Billy can do is try to drown them out but this is  _ nothing  _ like the gym locker room. At all.

The talking’s overwhelming, loud enough to hold over his thoughts but soft enough to not be cancelled out that easily. Some people are talking about completely different things, but it’s all things Billy’s heard of before-- people still talk about some old shit and it pisses him off even when it shouldn’t.

It disgusts him, to hear them so casually speak lowly about somebody even despite their losses. It’s fucked up, and Billy feels all the more disgusted in himself because Nancy Wheeler probably had to endure this every fucking  _ day  _ and Steve hanging out with her probably made it worse.

He just, never heard it. That’s all.

But he knows damn well how fucked up it is, and that he contributed a good portion to it.

He can squeeze far enough, but not fast enough because Steve’s gone again.

_ I fucked up. _

_ Who the fuck told them? _

When he turns, he sees Byers looking into the crowd nervously, trying to pretend he’s not listening in but he so clearly is.

Billy speed-walks towards him and grabs him by the shoulder to make sure he won’t leave, “Byers.”

Byers looks up in fear, sweating, but looks  _ fucking pissed. _

“Did you tell them?”

Billy hates that he’s the first conclusion.

“No, I swear to you, I didn’t. Please fuckin’ believe me just this once,” Billy begs in a far too aggressive tone. It’s the best he can do, he just wants to be seen as  _ good  _ for once, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t want to hurt  _ Steve. _

Byers looks at him thoughtfully then grabs his arm tightly, “I’ll believe you, but only because you’re  _ very  _ persistent. Nothing sarcastic at all.”

“Where’s Steve?” Billy asks seriously.

He just needs to know, he needs to find him  _ now. _

“I don’t know, it’s a mess, everybody’s obsessed with this new thing because it has to do with him. Nancy’s out looking for him but she’s not back yet.”

Billy lets go and bites into his knuckles stressed, looks around again and feels his teeth dig into skin.

Byers looks momentaily surprised, but then he shakes his head and slaps Billy’s shoulders, “Between you and me, I don’t think she’ll find him. I don’t think you did it. But I really don’t know who else could have.”

“Listen--” Billy starts, but a girl laughing in the crowd cuts him off, and he groans, “let’s get somewhere more quiet.”

At first, Byers seems reluctant but he makes his decision and follows Billy a few hallways away and into the storage closet where no one can see them. It’s quieter, but footsteps can be heard outside and it bothers Billy, even without the chatter.

“Who else knew?” Billy asks, crossing his arms. He doesn’t want to wait around for much longer, he wants to find Steve as soon as  _ possible  _ and he’s getting impatient. His fingers keep tapping on his jacket and all it does is make more sound, but he can’t stop.

“The kids, but news hasn’t gone around in their school as far as I’m aware, I’ve no idea how it’d get here to begin with. Nancy, you, me, Tommy, and Carol.”

“So, it must be the last two.”

Byers shakes his head and crosses his arms as well, looks at the door, “No, Tommy’s sworn to secrecy and he only found out while drunk. Carol was piss-drunk as well, she definitely didn’t remember.”

“Then who else?” Billy groans, and he runs his hands across his face.

“Maybe Tammy followed us?”

“Steve already fuckin’ called her out, I made him.”

Byers looks surprised again, then he furrows his brows, “You blackmailed him to call her out?”

“I know, dick move. I get it.”

“That’s the nicest move I’ll hear from you.” Byers almost looks incredulous and Billy reddens under his attention, embarrassed but still angry.

A knock on the door catches their attention and Byers opens it up to reveal a stressed and obviously close to crying Nancy, biting her lips and sniffling. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls her into a hug and Billy honestly feels terrible.

“Is he okay?” Byers asks once Wheeler’s pulled back, and when Wheeler notices Billy she clearly stiffens.

“I thought Hargrove did it?” She says with complete distaste, and Billy has to fight the urge to skin her, because he really doesn’t want to and his old habits are getting fucking  _ old. _

“I don’t think he did,” Byers says. Wheeler looks at him surprised and then seems to be closer to crying. She doesn’t even look angry at Billy, which he finds odd, she just seems sad.

“I couldn’t find Steve,” she says, leaning into Byers’ arms.

“There’s no way he’s gone far, we should split up and search. I’ll cover the gym,” Billy states and already makes to open the door.

Before he can, though, Wheeler  _ snatches  _ his wrist away and shouts,  _ “No!” _

Billy narrows his eyes at her angrily. “Why not?”

“Because, I-- I’ll take the gym. You can look somewhere else.”

She looks scared, disgusted, sad, and so  _ full of feelings  _ that Billy almost considers it but he snaps his wrist back and snarls. “No, I’m going to the gym. It’ll be less suspicious that way.”

“I think so too,” Byers agrees and takes Wheeler’s hand.

Wheeler looks down and nods stupidly, “Fine, but if he’s there, take him to me  _ immediately.  _ I’ll be searching the parking lot.”

“Literature club,” Byers states.

They all come into some form of an agreement and split off, but Billy can’t stop thinking about how persistent Wheeler was to take the gym and  _ why. _

_ She should’ve been angrier at me. There’s no way she would have believed Byers that easily. _

He stops himself from thinking too much of it as he steps through the gym doors though, because he sees the familiar backpack with a cute teddy bear charm and knows instantly that Steve’s not far.

The gym only has the sunlight seeping through the higher windows and so Billy’s left to scan the room, because surely Steve would have reacted if he heard the doors squeak and slam open. Billy tends to walk real firm-like as well.

But he can’t find much, so he walks over to the backpack and picks it up, slings it over his shoulder and walks into the gym locker room.

No sign of Harrington.

Then he takes a detour of the lockers, because maybe something’s there that could help him understand  _ how  _ they all found out. Something.

But with every locker he slams open and closes shortly after, there’s nothing, and Billy’s left with the showers.

So he inches closer and hears the sound of water running.

He drops the backpack by the door and swallows, readies himself and throws the door open to storm in.

_ Maybe this is a bad idea, what if it’s not him? _

But there Steve Harrington is, fully clothed and sitting blankly in the corner with tear-stained cheeks and a distant look in his eyes. Hugging his legs and tapping his fingers, looking at the ground but to Billy it looks like he’s looking at nothing at all.

Instead of saying anything, Billy just flips off the showers and tip toes to the corner of the room.

Steve doesn’t react, and Billy can feel his heart slowly getting crushed with every silent second. All he can hope is that there’s a  _ pulse  _ at this point because Steve hasn’t even flinched yet and it’s terrifying the fuck out of him.

He just wants Steve to be okay, he just wants to let him know it’ll be okay.

But how can he? When he’s just a shell of an asshole, a shadow of a man he swore himself to not be. It’s all fruitless.

Still, Billy sits on the wet ground near Steve and looks at him.

His brown hair is wet, and the tears still keep pouring out his eyes and his cheeks are so  _ red  _ but he doesn’t have any expression. It’s just vacant, completely in another world. His clothes are wet and sticking to his form as well, and Billy wonders briefly why Steve came here.

_ Probably wanted to stay, maybe it has something to do with not wanting to get caught. _

Because nobody ever really comes to the gym unless they absolutely need to. Nobody would hear the showers unless they were right up against the door.

“Had a nice rest?” Steve says, but his words all come out like whistles of whispers. Barely there, completely melded with the air.

Billy realizes the implications, of course he does, it’s because he didn’t show up to the hospital. It’s because  _ he wasn’t there for Steve. _

“I’m sorry,” he whispers weakly.

It doesn’t work.

Steve just lets his head lean against the shower walls, and Billy can see how his tears keep leaving his eyes. It hurts his heart, because he blames himself for it all. It’s all his fucking  _ fault. _

He doesn’t want to hurt Steve.

_ Please, God, I just want Steve to be okay. _

And then Billy feels his cheeks, and they’re wet. And he hiccups, sniffles, curls up right next to Steve quietly and gets why the shower being on is so important. It just drowns out all thought, but Billy’s an idiot and fucked it up by turning it off, like he always does.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

All Steve does is hum numbly, and Billy can feel his world shatter.

“My dad’s running away-” Steve rasps.

“- my mom’s left me-” he continues, breathily.

“- and you left me.”

All the words run through Billy’s ears, they stab his heart and prick his stomach and all he can do is continue to cry stupidly besides Steve.

“I couldn’t,” Billy cries, “I couldn’t get out, Steve, my dad--”

“Don’t fucking call me Steve.”

And that, that’s the strongest Steve’s voice comes out. And it  _ hurts. _

Billy pinches his nose, tries to stop crying but his heart’s already dropped completely and he felt it shatter and break when it landed. It hurts so fucking  _ much,  _ it aches more than the bruises his father’s left. In a weird, wrong kind of way. A different kind of pain.

Like he’s failed somebody so much, he lost them. Like he lost his mom.

And of course, he chokes, he just full on  _ sobs,  _ and Steve’s right  _ there  _ next to him, and all he can do is fucking  _ cry  _ when the one person who helped him realize his own problems is right there having been broken enough to just  _ stare. _

A broken record, spinning around, scratched and scarred.

Billy doesn’t know what to do.

He never did.

He doesn’t know how to be in love.

He didn’t want to be in love.

_ There. The cat’s out of the bag. _

Billy fucking Hargrove is in love with Steve fucking Harrington.

And Steve fucking Harrington  _ loathes  _ him.

And he doesn’t know how to defend himself.

He doesn’t know how to take back what’s been lost, he doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry for hurting him physically in the past, he doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry for not kissing Steve the night they drank, he doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry for hurting Steve  _ emotionally  _ and leaving him when he needed him most.

He doesn’t know how to say sorry.

He just. Doesn’t know.

So he just sobs, and lets his jacket fall off. And then he grips it, shakily holds it up and drapes it over Steve’s wet body. Because that’s all he can do.

And he gets up on weak legs, and mutters his last  _ I’m sorry  _ and heads for the door.

And he leaves.

Because that’s all he can do.

In the halls, people comment on how his jeans are a bit damp, they say he looks tough without the jacket, they comment on the cuts adorning his shoulder that he didn’t bother hiding with makeup. All Billy does is keep walking off, even though the gymnasium isn’t too far away. Even though Harrington isn’t too far away. Even though he can walk back right now.

He just. He really can’t.

That’s what hurts. He’s not the one to make Harrington happy.

They’re strangers, enemies, and he’s a fucking asshole. He loathes himself.

People see the tears, but they’re too afraid to say anything.

Tommy, of course, tries to crack a joke.

And Billy doesn’t spare him anything but a punch.

A very deep and anger-fueled punch that connects with his jaw in what is supposed to be the most pleasant of ways. A punch that confirms he’s back to normal, he’s  _ Billy Hargrove  _ again. Nothing to do with Harrington.

But all it does is disgust him. It makes him angrier, it makes him nearly break down crying but it makes Tommy bleed and Billy’s knuckles bruise and it doesn’t  _ matter  _ because he  _ wants  _ the fight.

He wants to be fought, he wants to be reminded of his place, he just doesn’t want to be  _ right. _

And Carol comes in crying, and Billy’s so fucking tempted to rip her apart and just before he can, a hand pulls him back and far. To where he came from, just close enough to the gym.

He can’t stop himself from crying again, he feels so vulnerable without his jacket and so stripped bare of himself. He just can’t be Billy anymore. He’s just a Hargrove.

Raw, bruised, damaged, broken, and  _ disgusting. _

Just another Hargrove.

Byers shakes him, mutters things that echo in his ears and he can’t even catch any keywords. He just sobs brokenly.

_ Just another Hargrove. _

And all he can remember is that drunk night now.

Harrington was crying in his arms, saying his mom was getting weaker, and they hugged and complimented each other and nearly kissed and it wasn’t Harrington that pulled back.

It was Billy. He pulled back and Harrington smiled, said it was fine and all Billy could say was  _ I don’t like you that way. _

Even unfiltered, he still vomits lies.

But  _ God, _ Harrington’s laugh.

The feeling of his soft hair between Billy’s fingers.

How he smelled of roses, cherries, strawberries and so much more. How bittersweet he really came to be.

And all Billy can do is think of it, as Byers keeps shaking him. As the vignette in his vision starts closing in.

_ “It was Nancy.” _

Then the black spots start to fade, and Billy looks at Byers full of  _ rage. _

“She didn’t mean to. She told her friend from Literature, and…” Byers bites his lips, and furrows his brows. “... I think Steve needs you. Just as Nancy needs me.”

Why should Billy believe Byers?

But, he slowly realizes why anyways.

Because Nancy’s not too different from him.

Nor is Byers.

“It’s too late,” Billy mulls.

“No. It’s not. He’ll still be waiting for you. He always is.”

_ He always is. _

And Billy feels that little bit of guilt and regret tugging at his chest all the more, feels his breathing stutter and tightens his grip on his shirt. Curls his fingers around the rough fabric, feels the dull bruise on his ribs that should’ve been gone by now but hasn’t faded much.

“Always is?” Billy mutters.

Byers nods towards the gym, “You found him there? I’m.. I’m not a good talker, neither is Nancy, really, but we get each other. So. Maybe it’s not that different with you and Steve… unless, uh…”

And then Byers starts devolving into a small, barely audible ramble about how he could try if Billy really didn’t want to, and Billy furiously rubs his own face to get rid of the tears and snot.

“Jesus, I fucked up,” he mumbles.

Byers just smiles in that stupid way he usually does, and Billy feels weirdly safe in it. Like Byers is some sort of.. other sibling. It reminds him of his sister, in a weird kind of way.

They don’t say anything else, Byers just walks off to find Wheeler and Billy runs back to the gym.

It’s got a weird different feel to it, feels sadder and emptier than it did when he first came into it quite a bit ago, but Billy keeps running until he’s at the showers and finds Steve still hunched over in the corner.

And Steve sees him, and looks both surprised but also so fucking  _ relieved. _

And all Billy has to do, is what his mother used to.

Something he knows how to do.

He drops to his knees by Steve, watches the brunette unfold from his little ball and then immediately, Billy wraps his arms around him and crushes him in his arms. “I won’t leave,” he says.

He means it. He really, really means it.

And Steve finally breaks out sobbing, shoulders wracking with every weep and Billy cradles him, holds him close and throws the jacket between them away to pull Steve in closer.

“I’m  _ sorry,” _ Steve whines. And Billy realizes that he’s not really alone in this, Steve’s not always in the right either. Steve’s human like him.

It hurts his heart to hear Steve cry, but he’s so relieved to know he can be there for him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into Steve’s hair and presses them flush against each other, lifts Steve into his lap and holds him tight.

“I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” he repeats.

_ It’ll be okay. _

As long as Billy’s there, it’ll be okay. Steve’ll be okay.

That’s what matters to him.

So he keeps Steve in his arms and lets him cry, tangles his fingers in his hair and it doesn’t matter to Billy that the main concern isn’t them. It matters to him that Steve’s safe. That’s all he needs.

He believes it’ll work out, and that beautiful things really do exist. That flowers do bloom, that the sun does rise and the sun doesn’t burn, it warms. That angels cradle people to sleep, that the wind goes wherever it wants and the birds chirp in the morning. That people leave, but some people stay a little longer. That some people can let go.

But he’s staying much longer, he’s holding on. Because he’s already let go, and he’s not willing to let Steve go too.

He believes that there are answers to every question, but he doesn’t need one. He can make his own.

And he believes that Steve’ll be okay, and if someone asked why,

It’s because he knows he’ll stay.

And that’s all they’ll need.

  
  
  
  


Holding hands?

Absolutely normal.

Completely, totally normal.

They do it all the time, and they hug and their noses touch a lot and they bump shoulders in class and make pinky promises when they race for a guaranteed price. And obviously, calling each other little nicknames and pet names and always needing to touch the other is completely platonic as well.

Like, well, maybe they jokingly called hanging out with Jonathan and Nancy a double date. And maybe they haven’t stopped referring to it by that since.

But, that’s all just a joke. Of course.

Even if Billy kind of hopes another one will happen where then, it  _ won’t  _ be a joke. Just wishful thinking, though he’s completely happy with where he is now.

It makes him giddy and content enough when Steve starts flipping off Tommy in class when the boy’s not looking, it gets a little dreamy sigh out of him when Steve’s smiling at him and it definitely isn’t out of the ordinary to say that his heart gets a little too crazy when Steve calls him  _ sweetie. _

But that’s all, that’s it. Billy’s completely fine with where they are now.

It’s only been a few months, like two or three maybe since Steve’s mom died. A lot has happened, but Billy’s been through it all with Steve.

Jesus, though, Steve’s starting to really convince him he has a chance here and that’s not doing well for his heart.

Because all Billy wants to do is smother Steve in kisses and pick him up and twirl him around when they hug, but they can’t do that. They don’t do that.

_ Ugh. _

But he  _ wants  _ to do that.

“Carol gave me the finger,” Nancy says while braiding Jonathan’s hair. Billy snorts, tosses some chocolate button into his mouth and watches Steve dance around the living room trying to clean up the tables.

“She won’t get that far, Tommy’s started actually scolding her for shit like that now,” Billy says, getting up and stretching. He places his plastic wrapper on the coffee table, walks over to Steve smiling.

Jonathan nods and Nancy slaps him lightly, he laughs, “I can’t believe Tommy listens to Steve and Billy still.”

Billy goes up behind Steve and wraps his arms around the boy’s waist, ignores the fluttering in his stomach in favor of reaching for the glass of water right next to Steve. “Hey, that’s mine!” Steve pouts. Billy chuckles and takes a swig, downs it all in one go and sighs happily once he’s done.

Steve groans and Nancy pulls on Jonathan’s hair, “Honestly, you should cut your hair soon but this is a lot of fun, even despite how short it still is,” she says. Jonathan just snorts and pats her hand.

Billy grimaces when Steve pushes back against him to pull his hair, “Hey, Nancy! Billy has longer hair.”

“Ooh, you know what?” Nancy teases.

“No, no, fuck you, no!” Billy picks up Steve, still hugging his waist, and runs out the living room with him. “Hey!” Steve laughs loudly.

Nancy and Jonathan’s bickering fades away while Billy drags Steve up the stairs to his room. Steve just keeps kicking, struggling and laughing until he can’t breathe.

Finally, Billy plops Steve down onto the bed and flops behind him, grabbing his hand to play with. “They’re mean,” he states.

“I think you’re a bit more mean for leaving them alone,” Steve jokes and turns around to lie next to Billy, letting their shoulders touch and their hair basically intertwine on the pillows.

Steve just looks at Billy playing with his fingers and turns to his side, smiling, “Are my fingers fun to toy with?” he asks.

“Well,” Billy drops them and turns to his side as well, lets his ocean eyes meet chocolate ones and smiles wider, “I like to hold your hands and mess with them.”

Steve snorts and  _ God,  _ Billy’s heart is racing and his eyes feel so heavy. “Something funny?”

“It’s just, we  _ do  _ kind of act like a couple, y’know? Nobody at school picks on us ‘cause they’re scared of you, but…”

And Billy’s a bit of an idiot, but he can’t stop himself when he reaches to interlock Steve’s fingers with his again in a more genuine handhold. And he can’t stop the next few words that escape his mouth.

“Why don’t we just be one, then?”

And it’s all but silent, and when Billy looks up Steve’s smiling at him in… in  _ that way. _

All soft and genuine, crinkled eyes and warm cheeks and sunlight on his jawline and pretty curls laying over his face and no teeth, just pretty cherry lips. It just keeps Billy’s heart going, it lets the butterflies loose in his stomach. All he feels is giddy.

“Well, if we act like one…” Steve starts, bringing his free hand up to run through Billy’s hair and it drives him  _ crazy,  _ “... then we already are one, right? So. Why don’t we do something that’s  _ really  _ couple-like?”

“Yeah?” Billy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he keeps his hand in Steve’s and his breathing’s just all but stopped. His heart’s going wild and he feels all fuzzy and cotton and warm.

Steve leans in and presses his forehead against Billy’s, closes his eyes and holds his breath. Billy does the same, tries not to smile too big but can’t help it anyways.

“Hey,” Steve greets.

“Hey,” Billy responds. It all feels a little familiar.

And then Billy’s lips are enveloped in soft, plush ones and fireworks go off.

Billy melts into it, lets his lips meld against Steve’s and loves the feeling of how they slot together so perfectly. Thrives in how crazy his heart goes, how overwhelmed he is by  _ love. _

Steve tastes like strawberries, smells like roses, and feels like sugar.

When they pull back for air, Billy just laughs and laughs and Steve follows, and they crush each other in a loving cuddle that’s not as platonic as it should be and Billy smothers his scalp with pecks and Steve giggles so happily all the while.

His chest fills with love, and he can’t help himself when he kisses Steve again and says right after,  _ “I love you.” _

And Steve’s eyes water with happiness, and Billy kisses him again and then all Steve can say while they pepper each other with kisses is  _ I love you. _

_ It’s totally studying. _

And this time, they’re not together because Billy said so.

They’re together because they can be, and they want to be.

_ So, you know, fuck you, Neil. _

“I love you too,” Billy sighs smiling.

And Billy Hargrove is totally in love with Steve Harrington.

And Steve Harrington loves him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i!! ok!! so i rushed bc i have a lot more stuff on my hands than i'd like and a lot of friends of mine have been needing me for things so this may have been a bit ooc but i could not read over it in the brink of time!! this is the first actual finished piece i've done, idk if i should really add more with how rushed i am with things :( i work a lot better with one shots but that helps give me a little bit of a better idea on what i can do better next time!! thank you so much for reading this far!! i hope you enjoyed and i hope that this wasn't too tedious a read for you (i have no idea if i had repeating sentences/dialogue, i've got bad memory D:) but i did my best and i'm proud!! :DD
> 
> my tumblr is nancywrote, thank you!!


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